Title: Pity
Author: MissMouseMD
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Don't own nothing.
A/N: This is what happens when pessimistic, melodramatic teenagers get depressed and write fanfics. Pathetic, I know.
Pity
She watches her pain bleed out.
This is wrong.
So wrong.
She draws the blade across her arm, one more time.
…
She wears long sleeves.
To hide the scars.
Secretly, she hopes someone sees them.
She hopes he sees them.
Sees what he's done to her.
Maybe then he'll realize.
Realize that he should be with her.
…
It's becoming a habit now.
Her dirty little secret.
It makes her feel special.
In a twisted sort of way.
She does it often.
She needs it.
Needs the release.
It's like a narcotic.
…
People are wondering.
It's April.
She should be wearing short sleeves.
She avoids their questions.
Changes the subject.
Anything to keep her secret.
…
Then it all comes crashing down.
She gets the phone call in the middle of the day.
At work.
It's all she can do to keep from breaking down right there, in the hallway.
Her mother is dead.
Dead.
She can't breathe.
She's suffocating.
She draws a line with the blade.
But the pain's still there.
She can't take the pain.
Panicked, she draws lines, again and again.
The only sound in the silent room is her head hitting the floor.
…
Voices.
She hears voices.
"…didn't know she was that desperate."
"I can't believe she would do that to herself…"
She tries to block them out.
She's so ashamed.
What has she done?
…
They release her a week later.
She was on suicide watch.
Suicide watch.
She has to go to a counselor.
Twice a week.
She's numb.
They're all whispering about her.
Her face flushes at the thought.
…
She passes him on her way out.
He looks at her with pity.
Oh, God.
She doesn't want his pity.
Why couldn't she see that before?
She doesn't want pity.
She wants love.
…
She sits at home.
Alone.
And stares at the blade.
It's taunting her.
Calling her name.
Whispering sweet little lies.
It will take her pain away.
But this time, she knows better.
Angry, she throws it at the mirror.
It cracks.
…
It's been two weeks.
She hasn't touched a blade.
She feels so proud.
Independent.
Izzie wanted to replace the mirror.
She said no.
It's a reminder.
It's more than that.
It's her trophy.
Her proof that she was strong.
That she resisted temptation.
…
She passes him in the hallway.
He looks at her.
She ignores him.
She doesn't need his pity.
And someday, she won't need his love.
A/N: I am actually a Der/Mer shipper, I just wanted to write this. Anway, please review, but if you're going to say something just to be mean, please don't bother. Thanks.
