The Hatred
Third Person POV
He wasn't happy with his life. Sure, other people might have harder lives, but he had his own problems. He didn't like the fact that 90% of the time, his father was screaming at him. He didn't the outcast at school. The "emo" kid. He didn't like that his one friend, Percy, was an outcast because of him. At least they had each other. That's a good thing, right?
One day after school, he was displeased to find that he hadn't left for work yet. His father walked up to him and gave him a hard slap to the face. "Why can't you be more like your sister?!" his father screamed at him. He was referring to his older sister, Bianca, who had died over a year before in a car accident. That was when all of this started. He couldn't find the courage to respond to his father. So before the tears could fall, he held his stinging cheek, and ran to his room.
Soon after, he heard the front door slam, signaling that his father had left for work. He couldn't take it anymore! He had tried to stop, he honestly had. But he ran to the kitchen anyway. He opened a drawer and pulled out a particularly large blade. He hesitated only a moment with the cold metal hovering over his skin, trying to convince himself to stop. But the thought quickly faded and he slowly dragged the blade across his arm. A droplet of blood appeared. He didn't remember the blood being such a deep shade of red. This cut relinquished so much anger that he had been holding, towards his classmates and father. He quickly grabbed his phone and texted his best friend.
Thank you so much. You helped me for as long as you could but, you can't help me anymore. Just know that you were the best friend ever and keep helping others. Maybe you could ask out that girl Annabeth now that I'm out of the picture. Good luck Percy 3
He sent the message, grabbed the knife, leaving the phone that was now blowing up with messages, on the counter, and walked down the hall to the bathroom. He shut the door and locked it behind him. I think you know what happened next…