Second Chance
Disclaimer: I wrote this in school when I had religion. I don't know why, but I did it.
Don't own Digimon.
If you want me to continue than this story will contain yaoi, that means m/m
relationship and in this case Taito.
Don't like don't read, but don't flame me 'cause you didn't read the warning.
For all of you that like yaoi: enjoy
I know that I'm going to write this wrong. In my story he cuts his wrist, but in
reality you don't cut there if you practise self- mutilation. In the wrist are the
major veins and arteries, you can survive it when you cut there, but it is an suicide
attempt. People who practise self-mutilation cut their upper arms. But I think that
it fits better in the story if he cuts his wrist.
*I didn't meant to give you an advise if you want to practise self-mutilation.
Never ever do it!!!*
Second Chance
Slowly cut the sharp metal into the thin skin on his wrist.
Deeper and deeper.
The knife found its way into his flesh.
The blood dripped down his arm and into the sink.
The water that runs down his arm mixed with the blood into a light red color.
When he stopped to press the razor-blade deeper, he pulled it away from the bloody flesh and put it aside.
The bloody metal glittered red in the light that came from the lamp above the mirror in the bathroom.
He hold his arm under the running water and let it bleed.
When he felt that his head started to spin he opened the cabinet and took out a towel.. He pressed it onto his wrist and waited that the blood would stop to flow.
After that he bandaged his arm up and cleaned the sink up.
When the remaining blood was all washed away the pulled his sleeve down again. In the progress you could see his other wrist. The blond also had a white bandage around this one.
He cleaned the razor-blade up and put it back into the cabinet.
Everything was back to normal. At least it seemed so...
The bloody towel was in his hand again. He had to bring it to the washer, otherwise someone might get suspicious.
But right now the whole room was spinning like crazy and he had to sit down. He didn't want to pass out, land face first on the floor and he didn't want to be found by someone.
He sat down and waited for his head to stop spinning.
After some minutes he stood up again, but his legs were shaking.
Slowly he made his way through the apartment to the washer. Right now there was no one home and so no one could find him with the bloody towel.
This time his way seemed longer than the other times before, but finally he managed to reach the washer and he put the towel and some other clothes into it. He started the machine and it washed the blood out of the towel.
Now nobody had a proof for what he did to himself, only he, he had the scars on his wrist.
He turned around and began to walk back into his room. He had to lay down, otherwise he would pass out.
This time he went a little bit too far. He let it bleed too long and he cut much lower on his arm, than he normally did. Maybe this was a sign that he wanted to end it all, but he wasn't ready for the big one.
When he reached his room he closed the door and lay down on his bed.
He tried to fight the dizzy feeling inside of him
At first he had only cut himself one in a week. But he started it like the feeling when the pain and the relief blend together like they always did when he cut himself.
This was the only way for him to escape the real life that was so much more complicated than it was before he started to realise something that he better had ignored.
Now he felt the need to cut himself every day and sometimes when the world was too much for him the bear he did it twice in one day.
He learned that it doesn't hurt so much when you do it under running water. He had also learned that it hurt much more when he re-opened his scars, but he had to do it anyway. He couldn't take the risk that his whole arms could be covered in scares 'cause people might find it out sooner.
Until now nobody noticed his way to hurt himself, but how long he could keep this up he didn't know.
Sooner or later someone will find out what he is doing
'What have you gotten yourself into, Matt?', Yamato Ishida asked himself before he fell asleep.
AN: Don't know why I wrote this, hope you like it. Please R&R!
Disclaimer: I wrote this in school when I had religion. I don't know why, but I did it.
Don't own Digimon.
If you want me to continue than this story will contain yaoi, that means m/m
relationship and in this case Taito.
Don't like don't read, but don't flame me 'cause you didn't read the warning.
For all of you that like yaoi: enjoy
I know that I'm going to write this wrong. In my story he cuts his wrist, but in
reality you don't cut there if you practise self- mutilation. In the wrist are the
major veins and arteries, you can survive it when you cut there, but it is an suicide
attempt. People who practise self-mutilation cut their upper arms. But I think that
it fits better in the story if he cuts his wrist.
*I didn't meant to give you an advise if you want to practise self-mutilation.
Never ever do it!!!*
Second Chance
Slowly cut the sharp metal into the thin skin on his wrist.
Deeper and deeper.
The knife found its way into his flesh.
The blood dripped down his arm and into the sink.
The water that runs down his arm mixed with the blood into a light red color.
When he stopped to press the razor-blade deeper, he pulled it away from the bloody flesh and put it aside.
The bloody metal glittered red in the light that came from the lamp above the mirror in the bathroom.
He hold his arm under the running water and let it bleed.
When he felt that his head started to spin he opened the cabinet and took out a towel.. He pressed it onto his wrist and waited that the blood would stop to flow.
After that he bandaged his arm up and cleaned the sink up.
When the remaining blood was all washed away the pulled his sleeve down again. In the progress you could see his other wrist. The blond also had a white bandage around this one.
He cleaned the razor-blade up and put it back into the cabinet.
Everything was back to normal. At least it seemed so...
The bloody towel was in his hand again. He had to bring it to the washer, otherwise someone might get suspicious.
But right now the whole room was spinning like crazy and he had to sit down. He didn't want to pass out, land face first on the floor and he didn't want to be found by someone.
He sat down and waited for his head to stop spinning.
After some minutes he stood up again, but his legs were shaking.
Slowly he made his way through the apartment to the washer. Right now there was no one home and so no one could find him with the bloody towel.
This time his way seemed longer than the other times before, but finally he managed to reach the washer and he put the towel and some other clothes into it. He started the machine and it washed the blood out of the towel.
Now nobody had a proof for what he did to himself, only he, he had the scars on his wrist.
He turned around and began to walk back into his room. He had to lay down, otherwise he would pass out.
This time he went a little bit too far. He let it bleed too long and he cut much lower on his arm, than he normally did. Maybe this was a sign that he wanted to end it all, but he wasn't ready for the big one.
When he reached his room he closed the door and lay down on his bed.
He tried to fight the dizzy feeling inside of him
At first he had only cut himself one in a week. But he started it like the feeling when the pain and the relief blend together like they always did when he cut himself.
This was the only way for him to escape the real life that was so much more complicated than it was before he started to realise something that he better had ignored.
Now he felt the need to cut himself every day and sometimes when the world was too much for him the bear he did it twice in one day.
He learned that it doesn't hurt so much when you do it under running water. He had also learned that it hurt much more when he re-opened his scars, but he had to do it anyway. He couldn't take the risk that his whole arms could be covered in scares 'cause people might find it out sooner.
Until now nobody noticed his way to hurt himself, but how long he could keep this up he didn't know.
Sooner or later someone will find out what he is doing
'What have you gotten yourself into, Matt?', Yamato Ishida asked himself before he fell asleep.
AN: Don't know why I wrote this, hope you like it. Please R&R!
