"C'mon... Don't be a wuss all of your life, Hudson... It's not like anyone is gonna care..." The young teen thought to himself as he pressed the ice cold, silver razor against his cold, pale wrist. All of the color had flushed from his face as he made one quick slice. Blood started oozing. First as a few dots, then like a waterfall. The blood rushed out like there was no tomorrow. Brad just sat there, staring at what he'd done, laughing as if this whole thing was a joke. He thought that he had painted a pretty picture, his bare wrist was the canvas, the blood-stained razor was the paintbrush. Suddenly, his world went dark...
*Six Hours Later*
There was a loud, distinct beeping, the beeping of a heart rate monitor. Brad slightly, ever so slightly, opened his eyes. Light flooded his vision as the brunette, flippy-haired kid, with blonde highlights and brown eyes, awoke from his long needed slumber. The beeping terrified they young teen, he jumped a little and jolted his head from side to side. Finally, he saw his mother, Carole Hudson-Hummel, sitting in the old, worn out, flower-printed cloth chair.
"Mom," he said in a sorrowed and pathetic voice, "mom, I'm so sorry..."
Carole's eyes were cold as ice. Usually, -Hummel was a caring and nurturing mother, but this time, Brad went too far. She felt nothing for him, not even the littlest bit of sympathy. Brad felt his heart skip a beat, his soul went numb.
"M-Mom... Please... I'm so sorry, " he managed to choke out, "please, mom, please..."
Tears welled up in his eyes as Carole shook her head in disappointment, stood up, and left the room. It was bad enough that he hardly had any friends, his brothers never really talked to him, and now, his own mother despises him. Brad just sat there, pondering on the thought of how badly he had hurt the one who brought him into this world, the one who kissed his wounds when he fell upon the concrete and got injured as a child. He couldn't help but to hate himself, he hated every fiber of his being. He wanted to die, and he wanted to die fast. Unfortunately for Brad, he couldn't, too many nurses watching him.
He intensely stared at the clock, the seconds seemed to slip by slower than a turtle on crutches and stuck in a puddle of molasses. After three days of being stuck in that white, windowless, pin-drop silent room, Brad was finally allowed to go home and, in a few days, he could go back to school. Woohoo.