Can You Keep A Secret (Denis Stoff)

3

Denis's POV: (Before he tried to take his own life) 

"Thank you so fucking much! " I shouted to the crowd. This feeling was amazing. I loved being with Asking Alexandria. The fans are the greatest, and the band is even better. Not to mention that I get a ton of excuses to hang out with Ben's girlfriend, and my best friend, Lily. 

After another amazing show, I saw Lily. I was excited to see her, of course. She's my best friend. Ben ran to her immediately and picked her up, twirling her around in the air. She giggled. I felt that strange feeling pulse through my veins. Jealousy. I'd come to know it well. 

I longed for my phone to buzz in my pocket to give me an excuse to look away from their love, but it didn't happen. It never did. 

In fact, it wasn't until ten minutes later that I decided to make up my mind about it. 

The thing that I'd been wanting to do for three years now. 

Because apparently, their relationship is just so perfect. Ben can cheat on her over and over, yet she still says yes when he proposes. Which I had to watch by the way. Lily kept looking between the ring on her finger and Ben's eyes. I said congratulations, but felt nothing for them. That seemed like a common thing for me now. 

And when everyone was on the bus, I grabbed Ben's cigarettes and ran away. Away from them. Away from all of the happiness. And then I just sat on a bench in a park, thinking. The darkness and cold around me helped make my thoughts come quicker. 

They won't care. 

They won't know. 

You should do it. 

You want to.

To feel alive. 

To get their love. 

To be loved. 

Just once more. 

But they don't love you. 

They won't feel anything for it. 

They won't miss you. 

They don't understand. 

They can't understand. 

I lit a match. 

They don't know. 

They won't see it. 

And you can do it. 

You know what comes next. 

I put the match to the cigarette. 

Just a little bit more. 

Use the death stick

Use it quick. 

Come on now. 

I need this. 

It was no longer a voice encouraging me, but my own voice confessing. Confessing that I wanted this, so desperately that I pretended that I didn't. Because I can't. I shouldn't. 

I need it to feel better. 

I was about to put the cigarette to my arm at first, but then realized that people would see it if I did it there. I lifted the bottom of my shirt off and put the cigarette to the bottom of my stomach. 

It hurt like nothing I'd ever felt before. My skin seared, and I jerked my hand back from it to stop the pain. And right there was a black mark that would stay there for a long time. 

This is insane. I  can't do this to myself. 

(Present time in the story, or late 2015)

I lit the cigarette and pressed the tip to my stomach. I was so used to this by now that I'd grown a tolerance for the pain. It was okay. It really didn't kill me anymore. If anything it really did make me feel better. 

This must be why they say that self-harm is addictive. 

"Hey, Denis I-" Ryan entered the room, and as soon as she saw what I was doing her face contorted with disgust. "No," She said simply, coming over to me and ripping the cigarette out of my hand. She reached under my pillow and pulled out the rest of them. Then she reached into my pillow and pulled out dozens of razor blades. The window in my room was open for air, and she used one of the razors to cut the bottom of the screen. I grabbed her and tried to pull them back.

"You don't understand! I need them!" I shouted at her. 

But it was too late. She threw them right out of the window and into the night. "If I have to fix myself, then you do too. It's time that you were better about this stuff, Denis. You can't treat yourself like that forever."

"Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?" I snapped at her. 

She looked taken aback. "Oh, I'm sorry. But I have to force down food, yet you can't even fucking swallow the idea of giving up on self harm? Give me a break."

"It's not the same," I shot back. 

"Not the same?! Not the same?! Don't tell me that those marks on your legs were from a fucking bear! Face it, we're both going to die at the hands of our own demons. And you have to stop letting them talk to you, or so help me God I'll never let you out of my sight." She looked me in the eyes, and held her gaze steady. "You told me that I was stronger than my anorexia. And I believed you. If I'm stronger than that, then you're stronger than this. It's a different problem, but underneath of our skin we are the same, Denis. The same." She looked away for a moment, but before I could speak again, she said something more. "You might think that everyone here is giving you fake pity, and you're right. They don't care about you. But you know what? I've come to like you in these few weeks that we've been here. And I think for one of the first times in my life I can genuinely say that someone actually cares about me. I thought you did. But if you're going back to this," She pointed at the window, "then that makes you just as bad as every other liar that said that they cared for me." 

Ouch. 

I fell back onto my bed an said nothing in response. I don't know how to respond to that. "Okay, okay. I'll stop. I promise. No more." 

She jumped onto the bed next to me. "Words mean nothing to me. Show me that you can do it."

I scratched my arm while I thought. "You missed one," I told her, reaching under the bedding and finding the spare blade that I'd kept just in case the other ones got taken. I held onto it, but then went over to the window and stared out. Ryan watched me curiously. I took a deep breath and dropped it along with the other ones. "I won't do it again."

And for the first time in my life, I think that I actually meant it. All I said was that I wasn't going to cut or burn myself anymore though.

I never said anything about anything else.