A/N: hello hetalians! Zero yandere here! XD anyways, I know this story has started really depressing and stuff but I promise everything will start looking up as soon as I continue to write it! I'll update when I can which won't be very often with VCE work and stuff but bear with me! And if you have any constructive criticism I'd love to hear from you! Ciao for now!
"French have got the wine and cheese, can't build a wall like the Chinese but I know that you wanna be Canadian!" the song ran out and Matthew groaned, rolling over to turn it off. He leaned back onto the pillows with a sigh. "Another sleepless night..." he muttered as he got up and walked into the bathroom, glancing at the small drawer that contained his demon. He closed his eyes and splashed water on his face before going downstairs and starting on breakfast, drowning it in maple syrup and slowly eating the pancakes. 'You're starting to get fat. Stop eating so much.' the voices in his head called and he sighed. This was new, the past week or so. Usually the voices told him that he was ugly, and unloved. But now they started to call him fat, and in Matthews mind he was. I know..." he muttered in a small quiet voice as he put the rest of the pancakes down. 'you should just die, nobody notices you anyone, no one would care.' they hissed in his mind and he nodded slowly, walking up the stairs as if in a trance and going straight to the bathroom, pulling out the small blade and running it across his flesh. Blood started to pour from the wound making tears fall down his face and wince in pain, but he couldn't stop. They wouldn't let him. One cut, two cutes, three, they appeared at an alarming rate. Blood spilling everywhere as his vision went blurry before going completely black.
When he woke he was surrounded by white. He sat up immediately and groaned as his whole body felt dizzy. A nurse ran over to him flustered as she tried to get him to lay back down. "Sir you need to sit still, you lost a lot of blood!" she exclaimed, noticing his arms. "Have you been cutting?" she asked in a quiet tone and he pulled his arms to his chest self-consciously. He nodded. She frowned and walked out in a hurry before coming back with a series of pamphlets about depression and self-harm. He threw them out as soon as he got home, knowing they would be useless. He walked into his room and fell onto the bed, looking at the bandages that wrapped around his already too pale skin. He contemplated taking them off, but decided against it, getting up and walking over to his desk and turning his laptop on to get lost on the web as a distraction.
Hours later he skipped dinner that night and went straight to bed, trying to sleep but he knew he wouldn't be able too. He laid in bed for hours, staring at the blank white ceiling before his eyes finally started to get heavy at 4:30 am and consciousness handed him over to the nightmares that would wake him before too long. He woke at 6:30 with a scream, jerking out of bed with a hand over his heart in fear, breathing heavy. 'Just a dream...just a dream...' he thought over and over as he waited for his heart rate to return to normal. He often had nightmares like this. Dreams where there would be darkness without light, everybody's taunting laughs all around him but he could never see any faces. He would run and run but they just got louder...words whispering at first but then getting louder until they were screaming at him. Hurtful words. There was always a knife on a table and every time he would reach for it and go to sheath it in his heart only to wake up screaming with tears running down his face. He looked at his phone, blinking at the sudden light. He groaned. "Why is it always too early when I get up...?" he muttered as he placed his phone down and got up groggily, stumbling into the bathroom to shower.