There are a lot of days when I honestly feel like I can't physically get out of my bed because I'm anchored there by sadness. This was one of those days.

I call these my bad days, and they consist of me sitting in my room all day with the lights off, alternating between crying and cutting myself. These are the days that people avoid me on; they pretend I don't exist on bad days. I can't blame them.

I'll usually just yell really loudly that I'm having a bad day and my family understands that I'm not to be disturbed because they don't want to deal with me. My friends pretty much run when they hear the words "bad day."

This bad day, however, was different.

I was noon and I'd been awake for a couple hours. My family knew it was a bad day, and they ignored my like always. By this time I was a teary-faced bloody mess huddled in the corner of my room, not ready to deal with the real world. This was normal.

What wasn't normal was the fact that I had a visitor. I didn't know who it could be, my parents had given up on me and my friends are too afraid of bad days to come near me. It was Ikuto. It was fucking Ikuto.

He knocked on my door and came in when I didn't respond.

"Oh my god, Amu. What the hell happened to you?"

I slowly turned around to see Ikuto. I haven't seen him in three fucking years.

I was torn between hatred and relief, and my voiced cracked when I said, "What are you doing here?"

He ignored me, though. He was shocked by the sight of blood all over my arms and legs. He saw the razor in my hand and all the cuts that were pouring out blood.

I could feel a huge lump in my throat. I didn't know what to do; I was mortified that he was seeing me like this, but I also felt so ridiculously numb inside that I was having trouble caring about his presence. I have a lot of trouble with emotions.

Finally, Ikuto did something. He went to get a towel to try and clean the blood off of me.

He came back and started wiping my arms gently, just mumbling, "Amu, Amu, oh my god."

I sat there silently, letting him do what he needed to feel like he was helping me. I was still having a little trouble believing that he was actually here in front of me. He's been gone for three years looking for his dad, and now he's come back to find me like this.

When Ikuto finished cleaning me up, he put some gauze over my cuts and we sat on the bed in silence until he spoke up.

"What happened to you, Amu?"

I just shrugged. There wasn't much that I could say for myself. I just got ridiculously depressed and I couldn't cope with my feelings.

"Amu, are you okay? Oh my god, you're so not okay. Have you been getting help? Do you parents know? What about your friends? What the fuck happened?" Ikuto was still a little hysterical, but he mostly seemed sad.

"My parents gave up on me a long time ago. When I turned 18 they let me continue to live in their house, but they don't really care about me anymore."

Ikuto looked close to tears, "Why?"

"I don't know. I'm just fucking sick I guess. I don't fucking know why I'm so fucked up!" I was getting angry at this point. I've never really known why I'm so depressed, and that frustrates me beyond belief.

I got up to walk around and try to cool off a bit.

Ikuto gasped. "Amu, you're so thin! Have you been eating?"

"How the hell can I eat when I'm so fucking massive, Ikuto? Why are you even here, shouldn't you be looking for your dad!?" I was getting more and more pissed off at Ikuto, mostly for not being here for the past three years.

"I found him, and it wasn't what I thought it would be. He moved on, he has another family and he didn't want anything to do with me," Ikuto told me sadly.

This made my anger dissipate slightly, "I'm really sorry Ikuto. That's really awful. Dammit, shitty things happen to people all the time, but what's really happened to me? Nothing! I'm so stupid and selfish!"

I was on the floor at this point, with tears just streaming out of my eyes. I wanted Ikuto to comfort me, but I also wanted him to stay as far away from me as possible.

He came to comfort me. He wrapped his long arms around me, and I felt warm. He started crying, too. Soon we were both just sitting there, together, wrapped up in a blanket of sadness that we couldn't shake off. It felt nice, though. I didn't really want it to end.