Clean (Lashton)

II

A/N- this chapter has a huge trigger warning. Read at your own risk. Like I think I've aid before, this entire story will be triggering so I won't put a warning up on every chapter.

Flashback

***

"Uhh, Sam?" I ask my best friend.

"Yeah, Ash? What's up?" he replies.

"Can I tell you something?"

Sam smiles. "Of course. Anything."

I take a deep breath. "I'm gay."

"WHAT?" Sam yells. I curl up into myself from the volume of his voice. "I can't believe I was ever friends with such a faggot." he mutters, walking away.

I feel tears slipping from my eyes as I run home, not even caring about my afternoon classes that day at school.

My mum is currently working, so I have the house to myself.

I run up to my room and grab my blade from its hiding spot. I make my way into the bathroom, admiring the shine to the metal blade.

I started cutting after my sister, grandmother, and two of my cousins died in a shooting at the college they went to and my grandma was a professor at.

I was very close with all of them and I took their deaths very hard. I became very suicidal. My mum hasn't found out yet. She's just noticed that I've been eating a little less.

She doesn't care enough to find out more.

No one cares enough anymore.

I slide my blade over my wrist, the familiar pain shooting through my arm as blood flows from the freshly made wound.

I repeat that process another nine times, leaving five evenly placed cuts on each wrist. I have very bad OCD, so if the cuts are uneven at all, I have to make more just to even them out.

After the ten cuts slow down on bleeding, I realize that cutting isn't enough right now.

I pull out a bottle of pills, not caring what kind they are.

I dump almost all of them out into my hand.

One for being gay.

I swallow it dry, wincing as the pill slides down my throat.

Two for being worthless.

I take another pill.

Three for being fat.

Four for being unwanted.

Five for being imperfect.

Six for being pathetic.

Seven for being unloved.

That pattern went on until I was at twenty-three pills.

When I get there, I am completely dizzy and hardly conscious.

With the last of my energy, I pick up the blade that is lying next to me and place more cuts on my wrist, slowly and deeply digging the blade into my veins.

I sharp pain shoots through my arm and it starts gushing blood, even heavier than before. That's when I know I've hit a vein.

Maybe this will be my end.

Maybe I won't have to deal with the pain anymore.

I can't take it.

"I'm sorry."

And then all goes black.