I don't even know what this is. I was bored. And angsty. AH WELL FUCK IT.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee unfortunately
Warning: CHARACTER DEATH AND GORE
Sam stared at himself in the mirror, thinking to himself. He was thinking about how he wanted to die.
He wasn't a cocky, self-conscious boy, and he never actually said out loud that he thought he was good looking. He thought it sometimes, but never admitted it. But he never thought he was ugly.
But as he stared at himself in the mirror he heard the names coming back. Fag, Fish Lips, He-She, Barbie. Sam had rolled his eyes and tried to make jokes out of them. But he couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't just fake smile and walke away. The pain he bottled up was pouring out and he couldn't stop it.
He was still holding the pocket knife. He only knew this because his hand was shaking bad, and his grip on it was loose. Like he wanted to drop it but he didn't have the guts.
Just do it. Do it.
Sam had already dyed his bleach blonde hair back to its original colour. It was now a much more realistic dirty blonde. Now it was his lips. His giant mouth that people teased him for since the fourth grade.
Sam didn't care about his hair. He had changed that back right away, that wasn't a big deal. But his lips, he was terrified of. The knife he was terrified of. Or maybe he was just afraid of himself. He was the one who had thought of it in the first place.
He slowly raised the knife to his giant bottom lip. He hadn't even broken the skin yet, but he was crying. In pain. Not physical, but emotional.
I just can't do it anymore.
Then do it already. Do it and let it be over with, dammit.
He couldn't do it. He was too much of a damn wimp.
DO IT!
Sam gasped in pain, feeling his lip begin to sting. He had done it. Not completely, but he had managed to cut deep into his lip.
Blood ran down his chin. Sam moved to wipe it away, but ended up hacking into his bottom lip again. This time, he ran the knife down the fleshy left side of his lip. Sam was in shock, and he was numb. He didn't even realize he was doing it anymore.
Anf then he did realize. All of the sudden, he was screaming and sobbing. Both in physical and emotional pain. It hurt so much, but it would hurt him even more to stop. To know that he would have to suffer with both the taunting, and living with the fact that he wasn't tough enough to finish.
His throat hurt from screaming so much. His hand was shaking, so badly that the cuts in his mouth were rough and jagged.
Five minutes later. He was done. He had done it. It was over with.
He dropped the knife, then falling to the ground himself. He smiled maniaclly at the reflection.
He was strong. He couldn't wait to see the looks on everyone's face at school when they saw what he had done. He had normal sized lips, and he had normal coloured hair. For a boy at least.
"I'm strong..." Sam whispered, he needed to hear it out loud to believe it.
Then suddenly he was screaming and sobbing again. He was strong. But he wasn't himself. He was a monster. Sam had created a monster.
No. The world had created a monster. The cruel human race has created a monster.
Sam gasped. His scream was cute off. A sheering white hot pain was shooting through his stomach. He looked down.
The knife was protruding out of his stomach, and crimson blossomed in beautiful patterns on his white shirt.
He smiled again. He was strong. That's what he wanted his last thought to be.
You're strong.
Then Sam closed his eyes, and lied down on the floor. He was perfect. And he was strong.
This is the way he wanted to die.