! If you're triggered by: Self-harm, attempts at suicide or anything depression-related, please don't read ! :(

So, this is a quick fic really. I needed to get the idea on paper and it's gonna be only a few chapters. X_x
Also if you can't tell I really like to torture Dave in my fanfics. Heh. Enjoy anywho.

~E

Your name is Dave Strider, you're 16 years old and you've been cutting yourself for two and a half years. You've done a really good job hiding it from everyone, too. Bro doesn't know, neither does John. Not Rose, not Jade. Nobody knows, and that's the way you want it to stay. Everyone wonders why you always wear sweatshirts or long sleeve shirts, even when it gets really warm. You don't know how to reply. You just say they're comfortable. Now that you think about it, you've been suicidal for a long time now. You don't think twice about your life, or how your choices may affect everyone else. On a rare occasion, you also burn yourself. But that's when you have cigarettes. Which isn't often.

Every day is a cycle for you. You wake up, consider killing yourself, walk into the bathroom, pick up the razor placed conveniently under a bottle, and take a shower. You contemplate how to kill yourself. You give yourself a few new cuts and let the water wash away the blood. After your shower, you brush your teeth, and consider OD'ing on that bottle of pills sitting in the medicine cabinet. You don't touch the bottle. You walk into the kitchen and eat breakfast, before you're out the door for school. The ritual once you get home is usually less of the same. You do what you feel like doing. Bro is hardly ever home, so you don't worry about him coming home finding you cutting yourself.

Today, you decide to hop on your laptop and chat with your friend John. This year you have no classes with him, so you talk over Pesterchum.

- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 16:30 -

TG: hey john
EB: hi dave!
TG: how are you
EB: i'm alright, how are you?
TG: same shit different day
TG: so shitty
EB: oh dave, i wish you'd cheer up soon. We should hang out sometime and talk about your mood. :(
TG: dude that sounds
TG: so
TG: gay
EB: so? maybe it'll help you.

You stare at your screen.

TG: yeah ok
TG: nice chatting with you john
EB: wait, dave, c'mon dude.
TG: bye.

- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 16:52 -

EB: damn it. :(

You sit on your bed and fiddle with your sleeve. You consider the pills in the medicine cabinet. They are very close to where you're at now. You could if you wanted. But you won't. Instead, you'll leave more disgusting marks on your skin. You go outside and light up a cigarette, take a drag before rolling up your sleeve. The only reason you'll do this outside is because Bro will know if the house smells like cigarettes. You press it to your skin and hiss through clenched teeth.

"Fuck," you strain. You pull the cigarette off your arm and throw it on the ground, stepping on it before going back inside. You grab the razor from the bathroom counter and you sit on the toilet, pulling down your pants. You decide your thigh is the most reasonable place for this today. You are running out of space of flesh on the underside of your arms. You make 3 cuts along your leg, and release a breath you weren't aware you were holding.

You look at the blood as it surfaces and feel disgusted. You grab wadded up tissue and dab away at the cuts and stick a rather large band-aid over them to prevent staining of your jeans. You pull up your pants and throw the bloodied tissue into the toilet, flushing it away. You watch it disappear and you honestly wish your problems would go away that easily. After staring at an empty toilet bowl for what seems like forever, you finally leave the bathroom after cleaning and returning the razor blade back in its spot. You walk into your room and lay on your bed, feeling really crappy as usual.