Why did no-one believe him?
why couldn't ANYONE just believe him?!
He was so alone.
So, so alone.
He thought, all those years ago, that if he found his real mother then maybe things would change.
He truly thought the curse was real but now he's not so sure.
Maybe he was just a troubled little boy or "crazy" as the kids from school put it.
Henry just couldn't take it anymore, he didn't want anymore suffering. No-one cared about him, no-one would miss him and not even his own birth-mom wanted him.
Henry rolled up his sleeves to reveal a litter of cuts and scars.
Some were faded but many were still fresh, angry, red lines that were scattered across both arms.
He remembered the first one he ever made.
It was on that night, that night his mother abandoned him for the second time.
No-one ever found out of course, no-one would care anyway.
Who would care about him?-The lonely, troubled, crazy, FREAK!
Henry knew that he was a burden to everyone so why should he bother people any longer?
He should just go, it would make it easier- for everyone.
Henry grabbed the kitchen knife from his bedside drawer and began to drag it across his wrists again and again watching as the blood began to pour out.
"goodbye" He whispered, to no- one in particular, and he then lay down in his bed,smiling, as darkness overtook him.
He looked so peaceful and at ease now and if it wasn't for his blood slowly soaking his bed sheets he could've been mistaken for an ordinary, sleeping teen.
Alas, this wasn't the case but Henry was finally free, finally free from the place he had once called his home, finally free from the curse...
the curse of depression.
[God, looking over this now, i realise its sooo bad *cringes*]