Spideychelle one shot book

Michelle experience with cutting

TW

CUTTING AND I THINK DEPRESSION

~Present~

"Michelle when did this start?" Peter asked, his voice laced with concern. Michelle only looked down. Everything, she remembered everything. From the first time she cut to this very moment.

~Flashback~

11 year old Mj's POV

I'm crying, I don't know why though. Everything was fine! I have a family that loves me. A roof on my head. Food at the table. Sure I didn't have friends, sure my parents are divorced, sure my little step brother makes a couple mean comments on my appearance... But that's no reason to cry.

It's been happening for almost 6 months now. I haven't slept good in 6 months, I haven't eaten properly in 6 months. I blame it on something else though. Part of me is saying it's real, the other part is saying that I'm just saying that for attention, even if no one knows.

Is me saying I just want attention me wanting more attention?

Only a couple years came out this night, other nights I'd cry so hard that I'd bite on my fist to stop myself from waking everyone up. Some nights I'd cry then vent to myself. I text myself when I want someone.

I'd make images in my head of me having a panic attack in front of people at school or my family, if that's not attention seeking I'm not sure what is.

I feel closer with my mom then my dad. I'm not sure if it's because she lives in the house that us as a family lived in before the divorce... Maybe it's because my trans, gay brother wasn't as accepted at my dad's house then he was at my mom's... I'm not sure.

I've always wanted to be like my brother. My brother is unique and special. That may be the reason why I think I'm bisexual... my brother is trans and gay, like I said unique. And sure he's hated by some stupid people in the world but he's loved by tons because of that. When he came out everyone was proud of him.

My brother had depression and was helped through it. Thats the reason I say I have it. Because I wanna be unique. But who in there right mind wants depression, well, loads of people. There are people on the internet who fake it, people in real life that I know who fake it. I used to have this friend in fifth grade, everyday she'd come in and claim she had anxiety... I didn't believe her but I didn't want to seem disrespectful so I tried to support her when she said she was nervous.

I've looked on line for help and was told to get it. I've taken quizzes about it and was told it wasn't normal. But I didn't help myself. I only pushed it away for the next dramatic scene I caused. They didn't know me personally, they didn't know that I was an attention seeking brat.

I've tried telling people... I talked to someone in class a little bit, her name is katy. She's obsessed with anime. We had nothing in common and if I'm being honest I kinda hated her. I told her I was scared for my brother and she told be something about a anime with someone in the same situation, she didn't even say I'm sorry. I write a lot, whether it's fanfiction or poems. One time I was writing a depressing bit and sent my terrible auto correction to her.

Mj: lmao how is someone supposed to twirl a blade between their legs?

Katy: idk

The next thing she sent was a Naruto meme, I've never watched naruto in my life. She didn't even question on why I was writing about depression and I questioned her when she sent me a picture of what they think it's like in heaven.

I'd be lying if I said she was even the slightest bit supportive about anything.

So this is where I find myself, laying down, facing my ceiling, even if my eyes were to watery to see. A thought of cutting came into my mind. I told myself it was bad and that I should do it, but I was peer pressuring myself at the same time.

That's bad, you know how many times who've told random people on wattpad not to do it.

But it's only for this one night, besides, I'm not actually depressed I'm just a little sad! I kinda wanna know what it feels like as well...

I got off of my bed and made my way to my desk, I searched the drawers for my scissors. Once I found them I open the blade all the way and gently, yet harshly, placed it on my wrist. I couldn't find myself to draw blood, only scratch. There was a white mark with red around it all over my wrist and my hand. I looked in the mirror and started to cry harder and harder.

No one knew that I did it. It was so quote and quick. My mom was downstairs watching a movie with my stepdad and my brother was in his room with his boyfriend. I was alone in my room, a pair of scissors in my hand, my other hand covered in what looked like cat scratches, and I was crying. Not to mention it was way past my bedtime.

I opened my door quietly and stepped into the bathroom, washing my wrist with the hottest water possible. It stung like crazy but I couldn't feel it, I couldn't feel anything at that moment. After I washed the non-existent blood off my wrist, I went to my room and placed the scissors on my bed side, incase I wanted them.

You're not gonna need them again it's fine.

I sighed and went back to my bed. A couple minutes of staring off I started to cry again. I looked at the scissors and scratched myself again and again, this time not going to the washroom as I knew there wasn't going to be any blood. I put the scissors down and went to sleep after watching funny shows to cheer me up.

I woke up early that morning, I was going to my dad's today. Everything from last night was a blur untill my eyes laid on the scissors. I wanted to do it again, so I did. Still no blood, pathetic. I put them down and packed my bag to go to my dad's, like nothing had happened.

I was in the middle of watching a movie with my dad, stepmom and little stepbrother when I felt the need to cut again. I didn't pack my scissors, this shouldn't be happening! After the movie was over I went to my room and looked around for something sharp. I tried to ease with my nails but that didn't work. I looked around some more and my eyes laid on the bulletin board. The pins inside it.

I walked up to the board and pulled out one of the pins. Scraping the sharp metal against my skin. Still no blood.

If there's no blood it's not cutting

I did it a couple more times and liked it. Setting the pin down I laid in bad and thought for a moment.

Maybe there is something really wrong with me?