The song is Hurt by Johnny Cash

She thinks she's helping me, they all think they're helping me. Well they're not. If anything they're just making it worse. They are so patronising, treating me like a four year old. I sit there in her office the smell of over perfumed roses piercing my nose. She slowly removes the pair of scissors from her desk and places them in her drawer, watching my reaction the entire time. I think she must expect me to just lunge across the table and start slicing away like a maniac. Then she leans over the desk and says to me in her sickly sweet purr, 'So are you resisting your urges?' Ugh. Who does she think she is? Stupid cow. Sam always talked about how cool this Miss Pillsbury was, I'm not convinced. If she had to live my life and deal with what I have to go through for just one day, no scrap that, for just one hour that bitch would be good as dead. I'm tired of the attention, I wouldn't mind if it was the good kind but it's not. If they're not whispering and pointing they're babying me or 'protecting me' as the guidance councilor calls it. I don't need help, I don't want help, I don't deserve help. I wish I could disappear, evaporate into thin air. I want to be a viewer not a spectator; I'm tired of playing their games, fitting in with their society. Why can't they stop molding me? Why can't they let me be me? I know why. Because this is me! A freak! An outcast! A weirdo who would rather cut himself than share in real human contact. Look at me! Look at me. I'm a mess; I'm tired of fighting it just hurts too much. Recently it's just not been enough. I find myself needing more. Some nights I cut so deep that I wonder if I'll ever stop bleeding. It hasn't always been like this, I used to be happy, enjoy life. Well I did when he was here. When he was by my side. He somehow always managed to keep the dark thoughts from clouding my mind and I never even thought about cutting. He was like my guardian angel, you know? Always there, protecting me, shielding me from harm. If I was ever in pain he would always find a way to make it better, he'd be there to soothe me with his warm heart and kind smile. But he's not here anymore and I'm all alone. I always looked up to him because he wasn't just strong physically but strong mentally; he was always so sure of himself, always calm and collected and he would never change himself for anyone. I admired him for all this because I guess he was everything I'm not and will never be. I just miss him so much. I can spend hours in my bedroom sat on the bed, my arms wrapped round my knees, struggling to catch my breath as I replay that night over and over in my mind.

We're walking down the street around nine, ten at night, he'd taken me to the movies and then to Breadstix. I'm shivering from the cold, he looks down at me and smiles, Sam Evans, my brother, the one person I can say truly cares for me in this shitty world. He's already given me his gloves, hat and scarf but seeing my shivering body he takes of his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. He jokes, we laugh and everything seems right. I'm laughing so hard at his last joke it takes me a few moments to realise something's wrong and by then it's too late. Sam's shoved against a wall and blood trickles down the side of his face. There's about six guys stood round him, they're a lot bigger than he is and they could easily knock me out with a single punch but they choose to ignore me instead focusing on their main target, my brother. 'Hey fag,' a large guy growls as his hands lock around Sam's throat. Sam doesn't try to fight them he seems to put all his energy into keeping his body strong but he's shaking badly and I can see the tears stinging his eyes. The same guy who has my brother slammed against the wall speaks again, 'so where's lover boy then sweetheart? We saw you holding hands the other day we thought it was quite disgusting didn't we boys?' The others round him nodded and grunted in agreement. Then bringing his eyes level to Sam's he says, 'We thought we'd teach you a lesson.'

I should probably explain, you see my brother was openly gay, now this would have been a less than interesting fact most other places but this is Lima, my town. A place where your differences are the things people use to bring you down and break you. When Sam came out there was no end to the amount of embarrassment my mother and father had to endure and they never let Sam forget that. But he carried on with his life and did what he needed to be happy; he even got himself a boyfriend, Blaine. Even with the glares, the whispering and the death threats my brother still somehow managed to see the best in people. I guess that was his downfall.

That night I hid in the shadows and watched as Sam was tied up, as he was spat on, as his shirt and trousers were ripped from his body and as they punched and kicked him. He was covered in a stream of blood. And as all this was happening I stood there. I stood there and watched, out of sight, as my brother was in pain. Then he broke down. He'd taken all he could bare and just couldn't fight it any longer. He began to cry, I'd never seen him cry before, I suppose he always tried to keep his negative emotions from me. Just another way of protecting me I guess. He was always doing that protecting others it was him alone who kept our family alive when I was younger. The crying seemed uncontrollable, he just couldn't stop. Then Sam started begging, he was pleading with them, offering them money, his silence, anything they wanted if they just left me alone. I felt sick. It felt wrong that Sam, the strongest person I knew, would beg under any circumstances. I stared into nothingness only being returned to my senses by the sight of a glistening knife. I was frozen with fear only able to watch as the knife-edge was driven deep into my brother's flesh. He stumbled against the wall clutching at the knife handle. The large guy spits at his feet and laughing the group run away.

I remember making my way slowly towards Sam and calling his name. His eyes flew open and his mouth struggled to form the words, I leant in closer to him to understand his breathless whisper, help. He grabbed my arm and repeated himself. He asked me for help, all I had to do was ring nine-nine-nine and stay by his side. That wasn't too much to ask for was it? For your dying brother who supported you through everything. But me being the worthless piece of shit I am, I took one look at his blood soaked body and pulled away. I ran. And I just kept running and running. My feet were sore, my legs aching, my head and heart pounding and my hands covered in his blood.

Sam died. His body was found the day later. There should have been a police inquest but guess they didn't care about him, to them he was just a worthless fag. Mum and Dad and Stacey were heart broken but I never told them I was out with Sam that night, I lied and said I'd gone over to a friends, not that I have any of them left now. I've tried to make things right by identifying those bastards who killed him but it was dark and I've never got very far. But even if I did find them I wouldn't do anything about it, I'm too much of a coward. I wish Sam were here, he always knew best in tough situations. But even if he were alive I wouldn't deserve him, not now. What I did was unforgivable. I feel guilt. And the pain that comes with that guilt, well it can only be silenced through cutting. You see when I cut and make myself hurt the pain from the blade blocks out the pain in my soul, if only for a short time. So, this is my life. This is all I've got left.

I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel. I focus on the pain the only thing that's real. What have I become my dearest friend? Everyone I know goes away in the end. And you can have it all, my empire of dirt. I will let you down. I will make you hurt.