Title: A Simple Cut
Author: amaresu
Disclaimer: They ain't mine. I've got $6.58, I really don't think it's worth suing me.
Author's Note: No beta. Sorry, please forgive me. Here be slash, or Yaoi as it be called in these here parts. It not be much more then implied. Ye have been warned. Don't be complain' to me.
Summary: Daisuke thinks about the past and the present.
Archive: If you want to you have my blessing.

I look around the computer lab. No one is here. Not even the computer club. It's the day before break and they decided not to meet. Same as we did. The digidestined. Sometimes I wonder if I even am one. It's not like any of them like me. Hell they'd probably be glad if I dropped of the face of the planet. I've tried to before. None of them know that. They all think I'm happy. I'm not. Or at least I wouldn't be if it wasn't for my medication. They put me on it after I tried to kill myself two years ago. Nothing like fifty sleeping pills to put you out for the night. If Jun hadn't come home early that night, if she hadn't eaten something weird and gotten sick. I wouldn't be here. Simple as that. I hate her for it sometimes. For coming home and finding me. For taking the time to notice that I wasn't breathing and see the empty bottles of pills on my nightstand. She was quick to react. I'll give her that. She'd called the hospital and started CPR on me. They said later that if she hadn't thought so quickly, I'd be dead. I wouldn't talk to her for a little over a month. I was on suicide watch then. They kept me locked up until the meds started to kick in. I still hated her for saving my life, for making me live. I just didn't feel up to killing myself anymore. Then I started to get happy. It scared me at first. I hadn't been happy in such a long time. The psychiatrist that they made me see was nice. I miss her. She moved last year. My parents never got around to getting me a new one.

Jun still looks at me sometimes. As if she's just making sure I'm still there. That I haven't died. Again. I did die that night. For about three minutes. Then Jun forced air back into my lungs. A quick stomach pump later, some medicine and I was as good as new. I have to chuckle at that. I was never as good as new. I walk over to the corner and sit down. I pull my knees up to my chest. It hurts again. Not physical pain, but emotional. It hurts. So bad I just want to cry. So I do. Nothing big. I've long since stopped crying for long periods of time. I usually can't cry. When I somehow can cry, it's only for a couple of minutes. At the most.

It's been happening again. The pain. And the self-hate and depression with it. I really do hate myself. What did I _ever_ do to deserve Veemon? My so-called friends? Nothing. I'm worthless. I'm a piece of shit. It's that simple. I'm not to the point where I'll kill myself. Not yet. At least I don't think I am. I _am_ at the point where I carry a razor with me at all times. Last time that happened they upped my dosage on the meds. Jun had been getting suspicious and started going through my clothing. She'd found it. She saw some of the blood I had missed when cleaning it off. Despite how she acts, my sister does care about me. That thought alone can help me at times.

So here I am again. Taking out the razor and pulling down the collar of my shirt, so I can reach my shoulder. I wince a little as the razor cuts through my skin. Then I sigh. It feels better already. Somehow, I've never been able to figure out how; the physical pain helps get rid of the emotional one. And I'd rather live with some cuts then the pain I carry inside me every day of my life. I cut myself a few more times, then put away the razor. After carefully cleaning it.

I sit here watching the blood run down my shoulder and think about what it is that's brought me to this again. The digidestined. We're supposed to be friends. Right? Then why aren't we? Why do they ignore me? Why do they hate me? I try, I really do! I want them to like me. I just don't know how to make them. Then there is him. The one I secretly like. I might even love one day, if I ever thought that I had the chance. He hates me most of all. I don't know why. I've tried, but.....maybe it is my fault a bit. It's useless though. He hates me, so I pretend to hate him.

Now I've done it. Made myself all depressed again. If I would just stop think about it, him, I wouldn't have to do this. Now I need to do it all over again. To cut. I take the razor back out and lift up my shorts a bit. Just enough so that the cut will be hidden. Just as I start to drag the razor across my skin the door opens. I look up in surprise and shock. There's no way to hide what it is that I'm doing. Maybe it'll be someone who won't care. Someone I can convince not to tell anything. But it isn't. It's him. He looks at me in horror with his hand still on the door. "Daisuke?"