A/N: Be forewarned. Very angst-y, very depressed. You have been warned.
The Haunting
His breathing is shallow. He can't keep the raggedness under control, can't stop the tears, falling more freely now down his cheeks.
His life has gone to hell. But wouldn't yours, too, after what he's been through? His boyfriend had left him three weeks ago.
That was the first three slashes.
Then, about a week later, he saw him with another guy. His worst enemy, as a matter of fact. They saw him watching, and deliberately started making out, just to spite him.
Two more, deeper than before. Deep enough to bleed.
It's dark all around him now, but he doesn't care. It matches his mood. But it just keeps reminding him of that horrible night.
The night his best friend committed suicide.
He carved his name in his arm. "Alex, I love you." It bled for two days.
He had walked into the Lodging House, to find Alex, more commonly called Snitch, hanging from the ceiling. His body had gone into shock-he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he couldn't speak.
So he ran.
The jagged piece of glass was dirty. It left the scars open for a few days. It hurt like HELL.
Now, he sits here in this dark, narrow alleyway, with the biggest kitchen knife he could find clutched in his right hand. His dominant hand.
The better to make the cuts deeper.
He thinks back to Alex…his beautiful, fun Alex. He died too young. Much too young. And Alex had always been the happy one, cheering him up whenever he was down.
The repression must've gotten to him.
He picks up the knife, weighs it in his hand. He wants to do this, wants to join Alex, wherever he is. He hates this life, he hates the people in it…but most of all, he hates himself.
He can do this.
He MUST do this.
So he presses the point to the tender pulse if his wrist, lets the pain sink in.
Then, gritting his teeth, he runs it down his wrist as fast and hard as he can.
The pain is blinding. Bright lights dance in front of his eyes, white lights flash in the back of them. Blood starts to flow, and he's temporarily paralyzed.
But he knows what he must do. He places the knife on his other wrist, draws it hard and fast.
The pain is almost debilitating now. And as he lays down on the ground in the alley, the ground running red around him, he thinks of his Alex. His sweet, adorable Alex. The love of his life. He'll see him soon, then they can be happy again. Together.
Snitch and Skittery, together forever.
it's over, it's over this haunting is over they cut my wrists and watch me bleed inside a dream and over, and over this haunting is over they cut my wrists and watch me bleed they stop haunting me
Misfits, "The Haunting"
Yes, I'm depressed. But not suicidal! Please read and review, if you would.