Forget Me, I'm Broken

Chapter 3

So I guess I never directly told you the reason in which I was placed here in this hospital.

For years, everyone around me called me names. Giving me false labels you could say. Everyday I'd tried to run from my problems, but you can't run from something that's chasing you.
After I join the foster home with Daniel, I thought the issues would go away. Unfortunately they didn't. More labels were thrown my way, tearing me apart.

Daniel learned how to comfort me in my time of need. With him, I felt safe.
I attended a nearby school that was more like torture. At first, things went well. I got good grades, got along with everyone...

That of course crumbled when my "friends" found out about my parents death. They said that they died trying to get away from me. They didn't realize what they were doing to me.

At age 13, I found a solution that relieving. It was wrong, but relieving.

I hid the razors on the top of the mirror above my bathroom sink. I hid them from everyone, including Daniel.

My arms and thighs were soon covered with scars.

One day, during one of my most depressing episodes, Daniel was pounding on the door, demanding me to open it. My vision blurred at the sight of my bloody arms.  I managed to just unlock the door before I passed out. Daniel instantly ran to my side to aid me.

"Don't," I croaked.

He didn't stop though. Daniel continued to clean the blood and to wrap my freshly cut arms in a gauze.
At the times I wanted to die, this saviour came to the rescue.

Although he never asked of why I retorted back to self harm, I knew he wanted to know. But I never told him. He wasn't ready... nor was I.

It was during the summer months the home found out. I knew it'd be suspicious to wear long sleeves and sweaters when it was roasting.

The youngest of them all spoke of it first. She asked aloud on why I had scars marked along my wrists. Everyone else abruptly stopped eating their dinner to stare at me. The intensity was killing me. And at that moment I forgot how to breathe. Everything was silent except for my heart pounding on my ear drums.

"I-I um.... You see..." I stuttered unable to find the correct words. I slowly placed my hands on my lap.

"You surely didn't do that on purpose...?" The headmaster proposed, uncertain.

I tried to say something of the least but my voice would work. Later, they assigned me to visit a doctor to help me. The results were an outstanding observation.

The papers announced that I had deeply severe depression and offered a free submission to this hospital to assure that I wouldn't hurt myself again.

Devastated, I packed my belongings. It pained me to leave Daniel, my true love, without a choice.

The last day at the foster home, Daniel took me out for a picnic at the park by the highway. That evening he told me that he loves me and wanted me to get better. I wished I could've replied by saying that I always felt better with him. But I didn't have the guts.

I ended up falling asleep in his arms for the final time that night.