Butters gripped the hair between his fingers and pulled. The knees pulled up to his chest were shaking and he was mumbling words through his trembling lips, trying to find an inch of sanity that could possibly stop his mind from thinking. The sink to the left above his head dripped and dripped, continuously, doing nothing for the young boys' frantic mind. A cabinet sat innocently on the other side of him, forcing him to be squeezed between the sink and the wooden object. He banged his head against the pale blue wall behind him, and he relished the pain that took him away from the world for a second, before he once again came crashing down to the present of his shaking hands and cold bare feet.
He felt he was sinking, really. Drowning. Gasping for air yet only gulping sickening ocean water. His ears heard only loud waves that crashed around him. His fingers clenched and unclenched in his hair. Everything, he thought, everything is wrong.
The only capable thought running through his mind. Everything is wrong. The world is wrong. I am wrong. My parents, my friends, my clothing and my teachers and my back pack and my back yard and my head, everything is wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
His head wrenched from its place atop his shoulders and slammed against the wall. His footing slipped and his knees were brought down from his chest. Panicking, he brought them back again, to please, please stay together, please don't break away and please, please stay in the tight little ball that he created.
Safety. It's safe, I swear.
It's safe.
Yes, he laughed bitterly, of course it is. Another thing he created that's so easily ruined by himself. So…so easily ruined.
His breath turned shallow and he leaned forward, forehead to knees. Breathe. No, don't breathe. Fine yes breathe but no wait take it slower now faster that's not how you breath am I breathing? Yes that's it it's fine everything is going to be fine it's-
Fine.
He took a deep breath. Everything slowed down. Everything…
One of his hands freed themselves from wisps of blonde hair and tapped against the flooring beneath him. Searching. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Touch.
The metal burned his fingers as he brought it up to look at it. A small square piece of metal. Innocent. Synching his fingers as he grazed the edge with his thumb.
He's thought about it. For days, he's been thinking about taking the innocent metal against his skin. He's wanted to see the blood. He's wanted to feel the freedom from his mind he's only heard happens when something is cut across a wrist or a leg…
He dropped the metal and began to cry. He picked it up again and this time threw it against the door, hiding his face so he couldn't see where it landed. He rocked, a calming motion he always resorted to once having these dark thoughts. He's a happy boy, he thought. I'm happy. I'm happy I'm happy.
He knows it's not the truth but he continues to rock anyways. Back and forth, back and forth. Calm and quiet. Happy and fine. Happy. Fine.
He took a deep breath and let it breath out as a sigh. His chest rose and fell and he slowly leaned against the wall, relaxing his hands and legs.
He's okay. He's gotten through it. He's…fine.