Drunk In Love (A Scomiche Fanfic)

Chapter Twenty-Seven - Broken.

(Scott's POV)
As soon as we got home, Mitch ran straight to our bedroom.
"Mitch, come back." I sighed, running after him, nearly tripping over the countless boxes of baby clothes and toys.
"My b-baby is dead because of me." He whispered, picking up a few stuffed animals from the box.
"No, Mitch. Don't blame yourself ." I walked towards him, but he backed away, shaking his head.
"Don't blame myself? WHO THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO BLAME? IT'S ALL MY FAULT!" He screamed, throwing the stuffed animals at me.
"Mitch, stop." I sighed, picking up the stuffed animals and putting them back in the box. "Come here." I put my arms out to hug him.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" He screeched, running into the corner of the room.
"We can talk about it." I cried.
"No! GET AWAY FROM ME!" He pushed me away, and collapsed onto the flood, his head in his hands. "I'm a murderer."
"For fucks sake Mitch, get a grip! I understand you're hurting, so am I! You didn't know those stupid pills would be harmful to our baby! But what's done is done. We can just try for another baby, okay?"
"I DON'T WANT ANOTHER BABY!" He screamed rocking back and forth, ignoring the tears, falling down his face. "I want my baby back!"
"WELL WE CAN'T GET IT BACK SO JUST DEAL WITH IT!" I shouted, immediately regretting it. "Look, I know it's hard but-"
"I need my baby! It was so little, I didn't even get to hold it!" He whisperer crying hysterically.
"We can't!" I was on the verge of tears. Mitch was shouting at me, but I couldn't make out what he was saying. I wasn't listening. I blocked everything out."
"Listen to me! Why won't you listen?" I heard his faint shouts. "What do I have to do to get you to listen?" It wasn't until he ran across the room, and pulled a knife out of his drawer, that's when I snapped back into reality.
"Mitch-"
"Will this make you notice me?" He screamed, slitting both his wrists. The blooded poured out of his wounds, and onto the floor.
"THAT'S ENOUGH!" I shouted, and grabbed the knife out of his hands."
I see it now.
That was his cry for help.
His wrists, they were already covered in scars.
He's well and truly broken.
And I don't think I can fix him.