𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒, 𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒

~I don't want to die~

I sat in the corner, whimpering as silently as I could, but my arms hurt far too much. Seven, I don't know why Sam has such an obsession with exactly seven cuts, but it's beginning to drain me.

"Get up." He growled at me, I let out a sob as I shook my head. "I. Said. Up!" He shouted, grabbing my aching arm and yanking me up. I let out a yelp of pain, trying desperately to remove my arm from his grip.

"No! Please! Don't do this! No more, no more! Ti prego!" [I beg you!] I cried, I tried my best to get away from him, but I didn't have the energy. "Shut it! Now, pick up the blade."

"No! I'm tired of doing what you say! I'm tired of feeling so much pain! It's too much!! I can't handle it!!" I fought back, pushing my feet against the ground as I pulled myself away from him.

Sam grabbed my tightly, yanking me forward so that I stood in front of the mirror. He held me tightly, making sure I couldn't move. "No! Stop! I can't do this anymore!!"

"You brought this upon yourself the day you started!! This is what happens! And now... you'll suffer for what you did."

"No!" Sam growled at me, his grip on my arm tightening, causing my breath to hitch. "The blade." My free hand wandered towards the blade, picking it up and flipping it open.

"You know the routine." He said with a sadistic grin, "Seven." He whispered in my ear. Tears sprung anew in my eyes as the blade dragged across my skin, a loud cry escaped my mouth at the third cut.

Sam clamped a hand over my mouth, muffling my cries as I continued to break open my skin, letting my blood pour freely.

I sobbed into his hand, it was all I really could do. It felt like forever as the last four cuts were made, my blood was dripping into the sink.

I felt numb, empty even, as my hand automatically started to clean and dress the new wounds. Once they were done, Sam let go of me. My knees buckled, I fell to the ground as I held my arm closely to me.

"God, they're all right aren't they? You're just some weak, pathetic, no good waste of space." Sam seethed out, I just laid there, not moving as my whole body ached, yet at the same time felt numb.

"Can't even put up a fight anymore... can you? God, you're a freak." Sam laughed, a tear slipped from my eye, landing on the floor beneath me.

"Goodnight Cooper... I hope you sleep well... don't let the demons find you." Sam chuckled, finally disappearing.

I laid there on the cold tile floor for what felt like an eternity, my body shaking as it lacked the energy to move.

I finally pushed myself up, my arms burning as I did so. I crawled my way to my bed, climbing in and holding my arms tightly towards me.

I pulled the covers over me, my lip beginning to quiver as my body shook with quiet sobs. I pulled one of my pillows close to me, holding onto it tightly as I cried.

It was then, when I was in my room, all by myself and sobbing my heart out, that I realised. Sam was right. I am alone.

I have no one here to comfort me, no one to tell me I'll be okay. I have no one to bandage up my arms, I have no one to help me heal.

Sam was right. I'm alone, I'm crying again, and I have no shoulder to cry on. I'm alone, crying again and again and again... yet there's no one to wipe away my tears.

I want Felicity back, she always gave me a shoulder to cry on, she was there to bandage me up when I couldn't. She was there to tell me I'll be okay, that this will pass and I'll be okay.

I want Felicity back.

But Sam was right.

She won't come back, she hates me. She was never there for me, she just tricked me. Everything she ever did for me was a lie, a trick, a plot. She gained my trust, she made me feel safe with her. And did she do a damn good job... then she stabbed me in the back, she just left, not even a goodbye, no explanation, just gone.

And then I saw the truth, she was like Zeke. She was just a rude, unforgiving, merciless liar like he is. She took pleasure in making me miserable, just like Zeke.

I hope you're happy Felicity Romano.

And Sam was right.

The hardest thing... I think, is lying in my bed, bawling my eyes out and realising that no one hears me... either that or they don't care. It's also hard waking up each morning, just to be picked on so much that I wish I hadn't woken up, that maybe someone had of snuck in and killed me.

Sometimes death sounds so much better...

But I don't want to think that!! I want to go through life enjoying it!! Not wishing every bad scenario I think of could happen to me!! I don't want to wish I was kidnapped, tortured and killed!! I don't want to wish about walking across the street and having a car hit me!! I don't want to wish the I accidentally drown in the ocean!!

I want to live happily! I want to wish about my future!! About a wife and children! I want to think about holidays, family trips and relaxing nights at home!! I want to wish I was happy...

I want to go through life happily... living to the fullest and not letting anything drag me down... I want to enjoy my childhood while I still have it, I want to go out and party! Get drunk with friends!! Do stupid shit because I'm drunk off my ass!! I want to live.

But all I ever think about... all I ever think about is whether I'll make it through the day, wondering why I woke up in the first place. I'll think about how quick it would be if I just jumped in front of that car o-or how painless it would be from that talk of a building...

I want to live happily... but instead I wish for the sweet release of death...

I don't want to die...