I guess I'm turning this into a multichapter. To begin with, chapters are gonna be short, but they will get longer. Trigger warning- depression, self-harm, and suicidal thoughts. Enjoy.

Every time I walk into room, it goes silent. Conversations cease, and eyes glare at me, making me feel smaller than I already am.

"Hey guys," I mutter, walking further into Sonic Boom. Trish shoots me a glare, and immediately delves back into her conversation with Ally. I can feel Dez's eyes on me, as I walk instinctively to one of the practice rooms in the back of the store. The last one has basically become my utopia- no one comes in there, and it's the only place that offers me full solace.

Inside, I slump back against the wall, pulling my razor from my pocket, and staring it. I turn it over in my hands a couple times, my eyes fixated on the blood staining the edges. My blood.

It seems to have a calming effect on me, and I'm not sure why. The thought makes me seem like I belong in a loony bin, but I swear, I'm not crazy. Just fucked up, but not crazy.

I wonder what being happy was like. I don't even remember those times- they've been steamrolled by depression and gloom. I guess I had that fight with Ally, Trish, and Dez. I wasn't trying to hurt Ally, but I ended up doing it anyway, and I don't know if I can ever forgive myself. I just thought I was protecting her- that obviously wasn't the case.

Before I even realize it, the blade is embedded in my skin, and I'm crying again. I feel weak as fuck- guys shouldn't cry at every damn thing, but it's not like I can control my body or my emotions anymore.

A good half hour passes, before I'm finally able to talk myself into getting up and leaving my source of comfort. The blade is back in its rightful place- my pocket. I walk out, back into the store- intending to leave without a word, but I'm halted in my tracks.

"Austin? Have you written any more of the song?"

Ally looks at me with absolutely no emotion in her eyes, and I sigh, whirling around to face her. I could lie and say I have, but that would just piss her off even more. "No, I haven't. Couldn't think of anything."

"Dammit, Austin. These are your songs. I don't even know why I'm helping you- if you do no work."

A cold sweat overwhelms me, as I heed her words. They stab my heart- because I'm fucking trying and she obviously neglects to see it. No one can see how hard I'm trying, and it discourages me even more. If they don't notice when I'm working hard, they sure as hell won't notice if I blow shit off completely. So why bother busting my ass for no reason?

"I'm sorry," I mutter. "I'll work on it at home."

"Whatever," Ally replies. She looks away, as I walk out if the store. My mind locks onto the cars rushing back and forth across the street, and all I can think about is the pleasure of being hit by one of them. Again, I sound crazy, but I'm really not. I'm just done with pain.

When I got home, my parents were waiting. Apparently, I got a D on a history paper, and they were so damn eager to chew me out for it. I don't even like history, and it's not like I'm ever going to care what the Vikings contributed to history.

My bedroom door is locked as I sit- huddled in a ball under my covers, tears rolling down my cheeks. This day isn't even half over, and I'm already absolutely done with it. I have homework to do, the song needs to be written, and I have to call Jimmy to work out more gigs.

None of them are going to get done- this Sunday is going to go to waste like every other Sunday has. Full of tears and cuts and fake smiles.

My phone beeps, and I grab for it lazily, glancing at the new message.

From: Ally

You have to finish the song yourself. I'm working on another one of my own- probably something I'll be singing as opener in another one of your shows. Have fun.

I grunt and throw my phone back onto the mattress, putting my head in my hands. I'm not that great with song lyrics- that's Ally's realm. Whatever songs I do write, are edited and changed by her- so technically, most of the work is hers. I'm shit at making lyrics flow, so this is just gonna be a disaster.

It's just hard. And I know I'm only fifteen- that I have years ahead of me- but I've basically got a career set in stone. Trust me, balancing that and everything else a normal teenager does is fucking difficult.

Sometimes, I guess I just can't take the pressure. Everyone has their breaking point at some time, don't they? And I guess this is it for me. Depression has washed over me like a tidal wave, and I don't know how much more I can take.

As predicted, my Sunday was wasted in feeling sorry for myself. I cut a lot, cried a lot, and got absolutely nothing productive done. I think I'm going to have to start cutting somewhere else- my wrists are almost completely covered. I've taken to reopening the healing cuts- mainly because it brings more pain than making fresh wounds, and the pain makes me feel better.

I heft my bookbag higher on my shoulder, and walk into the school. I'm really not anticipating a good day, today. I got no homework done- that's probably what I'll spend homeroom doing, and I'm not ready to get insulted by Trish again. She may not be able to keep a job, but damn, that girl can definitely hold a grudge. And she's definitely harsh when she wants to be- I think she's coaching Ally in doing the same. Ally's nature is pure kindness, so the nasty remarks must've come from somewhere.

I just want to get through this day, so I can escape to my room and slice into my arms again. I rely on the blade, and I'm not even ashamed of it. It's what keeps me alive, so what would you rather- cutting keeping me alive, or the pressure of life making me end it all?

Thoughts? I do plan to include the rest of R5- although they will be AU, and very different from the people they are in real life. They should appear in a couple chapters, haven't exactly decided when yet. Anyway- I hope you enjoyed, and please review.

-Neha