Big Time Scars Chapter 1
Okay guys this is for Self Harm Day on the 13th December. It's something me and my friend are doing to support those who have self harmed (her friend was one of them). So we are writting 'Stay Strong' on our wrists on that day. Please join in. (If you will I'd love it if you told me by review or pm) Thanks guys now enjoy.
Day 1
Standing in frount of the bathroom mirror, listening the those thoughts in his head.
He was the weakest band member.
The clumsiest band member.
The most useless band member.
And last of all the stupidist of them all.
Many horrible comments had been made about the poor kid. Even his best friends made fun of him.
The worst person in the world at it was not Gustavo, his boss, who punished him by making him work as a assistant until four every evening (except weekends).
Not the girls he had a crush on when they always rejected him and made him feel like a nobody.
It was not the people around him who laughed and pulled faces. They got to him a lot however one thing still hurt more.
But his own band mates who went out their way to mock their clumsy friend for absolutely no reason.
Anouther tear rolled down the boys cheek. There was no easy solution and as far as he was aware nothing else he could do.
The mirror reflected his what he believed was once a perky, hockey playing boys face but now it was the face of a pitiful, useless, disgraceful boys face.
Before he was a member of Big Time Rush his child hood was challenging, with his parents splitting up and fighting over him. There was lots of times where he had to sit in court whilst his parents bickered over who had the rights to keep the boy.
All the fighting was doing was driving him to pain and sorrow. In the end his mother was taken away from him and he was in the back seat in his Papa's car. However it was not how he had wanted things to be. He wanted to have both his parent going on that holiday they planned mounths ago. There was no way his working father could just pay for that now after all the money wasted on Layers and many other things relating court action.
All of this scared the young child so much he went to his room and pushed his bed across the door so no one could get him. Pitifully he climbed onto his bed, curled up and sobbed his little heart out. The razor he had taken from the bathroom cupboard lay on the other side of the bed. Nervously he started rocking himself staring at the plastic object. With no idea what to do with it he left it for the time being. It had not yet come to that.
However now as a sixteen year old maybe it had. In his washbag was the same razor he took eight years ago. It sat in there calling to him.
"Use me. I am what you need. Your solution."
Swallowing hard the boy reached into the bag to pull out the same piece of plastic he held all those years ago. The blades even sharper than those on the standard razor these days. After gulping again he rolled up his sleeves and placed the blade above his helmet. Quickly he scraped of the skin a centimetre down.
The pain was so horrific he dropped the razor and yelped.
Someone banged on the door.
"Carlos what's goin' on Gustavo needs us at Rocque Records in twenty minuets and I still need to comb my hair!
Speedily the boy rolled down his sleeve and leapt out the bathroom. Before he knew it he was back in the same studio as always rehearsing with his 'friends', trying to ignore the agony the cut was giving him.
So what do you guys think. I hope this story will also help those who want help on knowing what to do if they know someone who is doing this or if you are.
Cya
Suicune.