My Dear Brothers|✓|

Extra Chapter 9

All Alex had felt when he had read the letter was white hot blazing anger. Now that he had punched the punching bag till it was hanging by tatters, all he felt was emptiness. He wanted to feel something. Anything. And he knew exactly what to do to feel something.

He strode into his room, locking the door behind him. He made a beeline for the en suite bathroom like he always did when he felt numb. He reached for the dagger in the medicine cabinet almost mechanically and stared at it.

He pressed it to his wrist, ready to feel the sharp sting of the blood. But a voice stopped him. His sorella's voice echoed in his mind. The hand with the weapon lowered by itself. Her voice told him that what he was doing was wrong. People did care for him. They always would.

The dagger fell to the floor with a clatter as he turned on the water in the sink and splashed some of the icy water on his face. He hardly felt the cold sting of the water and ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. He gripped the edge of the sink and stared into the mirror at the broken teenager staring back at him. The broken blue eyes assessed his face and made him wince. He strode out of the bathroom and his eyes fell on a note addressed to him that was kept in the middle of the bed. He recognised the spiky handwriting immediately.

You are not weak, Alex. Get that in your head. Now, cry, scream, do whatever the hell you have to. And when you are calmer, I want you to think of all the good times we spent together. I want you to smile at the pranks pulled on you and I want you to remember that day at the mall, the day after I came here. You okay now? Ever feel like you want to do that again remember that people love you and think about such times that you spent in their company.

I love you, brother.

Tears fell down Alex's face, but he didn't bother wiping them away. He needed this. He needed to let out all the pent up emotions. He did exactly what Izzy asked him to do. He cried, screamed and trashed his room. Papers went flying everywhere and he collapsed in the middle of the room, exhausted as his tears dried after a temper tantrum of 15 minutes. It was amazing luck that all the others were not in the house right then because somebody or the other would have noticed the screaming.

He looked through his phone till he found that particular photo. The one of him and Izzy grinning like idiots, as he carried her up the stairs on his shoulder. She was making a piece sign at the camera while he was shaking his head in disbelief as his lips pulled upwards. 

He smiled at the photo before locking the phone and making a vow to himself. Never again. No matter how much he was tempted, he would never again cut himself again. He was not weak. His family cared for him. He was not alone.

Ahem. First reaction is of Alex my lovely readers.

This is a message for all the people out there who think they are not strong or they are alone.

You are not alone. There is always someone who cares for you. There is someone who will help you stand back up again every time you fall. If your friends hurt you on purpose, they are not your friends. Cut off all ties to them and be free. It's hard to stop but remember, every time you hurt yourself, it's a knife in the heart for someone who cares for you. Also it's not weak to ask for help. Sometimes you just can't do it alone. That's why you have two hands. Because if you had only one, you wouldn't be able to many things. That doesn't make that hand weak now does it? In fact this co-dependence makes it stronger. 

If anyone needs someone to talk to, PM me and I'll talk to you or even just listen if you want me to.

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