| Cake / Mashton One Shots |

Bullet

Credit; nirvanacal

I'm sad witch means sad update, I'm sorry :(

*triggering*
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If you asked Luke, he never thought he'd feel this way towards himself when he was in primary school - actually, everything seemed to go downhill for Luke in primary school. However, it was only around the end of year six, that he felt the need to experiment with knifes dragged across his wrists.

It wasn't the first time he had tried this. He has tried slitting his wrist earlier in the year, but was too afraid to deepen the cut, so he put it away and continued with his life.

But, it was only until he heard about the "stories" self-harmers liked to tell. "When I slide the blade across my wrist, it releases any pain kept inside that was bursting to come out.", "It's a way for an escape.", "Personally, I can't handle emotional pain, and so it gives me that one advantage to take out my misery in physical pain."

Luke likes to hear this now. He's gone from sharp knives, to pins, then sharpener blades, right to the razor blades which seem to work better for him.

When Luke started High School, he didn't expect to be bullied. He originally thought he had friends, but unfortunately, they had dumped him for others that seemed much more interesting than Luke will ever be.

What Luke didn't understand, is that the school has a bullying policy. They also have a sign with "no bullying" in big, bold letters.

NO BULLYING TOLERATED

you will be punished for any imperious behaviour no matter the consequence.

Yet, they still have those rebellious people who think they're too swagger to follow any stupid school rules. What annoys Luke the most is that the bystanders do nothing about it, either. They don't even report it to the teachers. All they do is laugh - unless it's them being teased, or their friends.

Sadly, Luke has no friends. He started losing friends in year seven, when they all thought he wasn't good enough to be his friend - they basically turned on him.

Now that he is in year twelve, he is more mature - but wistfully, he still has no friends, nor has he gotten better over the years.

+

Luke sighed sorrowfully, hating the way these people treated him. They picked on him until he was mentally weak and would beat him until he was unable to stand. Luke didn't know why they'd treat him so poorly, but the voices in his head spoke otherwise.

You're trash, go to hell!

No one will miss you if you died, so go do it!

No one will even notice you're gone until the bullies try to find you, only to beat you to a pulp again!

Go slit your wrists like a weak boy you are!

He hated how the comments they make are annoyingly true, but he listens to them anyway, and spends most of his nights in the bathroom, either in the bathtub, or on the cool tiles, cleaning up his mess, or sliding the blade across his wrist and watching as the crimson red blood come curling out of the newly fresh cuts he'd just made.

No one was ever there for him. No one at all, and he knows no one ever will, so why bother trying, when nobody's going to help him?

Luke slowly got himself out of bed, dreading the next hour to come when he's meant to go to school. Anyone who gets bullied dreads that place.

As he was walking to school, the schools bullies came running after him. Luke didn't realise until he tripped over and fell to the ground that he was running.