𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐄, Jachary

🩸Chapter 7🩸- my cuts

Jack's pov 

I was practically yanking zach home. To pour over his diary entries was my ambition. When we got home, i reminded him of our excuse,

"I walk in with you, and I say hi. You then say, sorry write, hi as well. You then s- write that you got lost trying to find a shop, and I found you. Clear?" I asked.

Clear  he wrote.

"Cool." I held out my hand, but he ignored it. I felt embarrassed, holding my hand out to nothing, then I stepped inside. The warm air enveloped us. He took his shoes off and walked upstairs.

"Zach! Wait!" I called. He turned around and smiled. 

Then he carried on walking till we reached his room. I saw his diary peeking from under his pillow. 

Here you are.

He handed over his life to me. I opened the first page. It was dated a week ago, on the day his parents died.

Dear diary,

Lost. 

Lonely. 

Forgotten.

 I don't speak anymore. Ryan got mad at me for making Reese cry, because I didn't answer when she asked about orphanage. No one likes me. Tomorrow we are being transferred to the orphanage. I am nervous. I hope someone nice picks me.

I was in the kitchen then I saw the knife. It was sharp. I walked over to it, and buried the blade into my skin. It felt so good, though it's probably going to leave a scar.

Zach

I looked at him and he pointed to a long cut along his arm. It looked deep. Dangerously deep.

"Zach, you can't keep on doing this!" I said frustrated. He ignored me and turned the page. I saw the diary entry I had read at the orphanage.

Dear diary,

Hearing my parents hospital machine stop was horrible. I Punched the fake nurse in the face, and ran out of the room. I didn't stop running till I reached a nearby park. My cuts ached, my brain hurt.

It was 10pm, when I cut myself. A deep cut in my left leg. It will probably leave a scar, like the other 7.

I've gone mute, and I can't to speak. Not even to the remaining of my family. I feel so broken. The car crash haunts me. And it will never stop.

Zach.

Every word made me sink lower and lower. He then showed me a still bleeding cut in his left leg. The one I saw through his jeans. 

It felt like the right thing to do. He wrote.

"I like you zach." I said, wiping a tear from my eye.

As a brother, though? He wrote. I gulped.

I didn't mean that way.

"yes, as a brother." I said. He cuddled me, making me sigh.