*1 Month Later*
(Buttercup's POV)
I slid down the wall in the dark bathroom. How is I went from the hell of high school to this hell? Boomer and I started fighting over moving. I say we need to move. We've done everything we could to protect Townsville. We're out of work here. I need new monsters to fight. Tokyo is having major monster problems. Boomer of course wants to stay with his baby mama. I understand that but that doesn't mean we all need to stay. Blossom, the hypocrite, says we have to support him and that this is the only place we've ever really known. She claims to want to preserve human life but she doesn't do a damn thing to show it. Bubbles of course can't live without her Boomsy. Brick doesn't have the balls to say no to Blossom. What really pisses me off is that Butch, my own fiance, won't even take my side. He hates this place as much as I do and he still sided with that blue-eyed cry baby.
I grabbed my blade from underneath the sink and held it to my skin. I breathed in and cut the first line. I began carving his name. Boomer was etched into my skin nicely. I've had plenty of practice writing with a blade. Blood dripped into the bathtub beside me. I cut a line through his name and blood gushed out faster. Oh shit. Too deep. I turned on the water and ran my arm under it and the blood poured down.
"Fuck." I yelled as tears swelled in my eyes and the edges got blurry.
"Buttercup?" Boomer asked through the door.
"Go away." I yelled and pressed a towel against the cut.
"Buttercup! Open up!" He yelled hearing the pain in my voice. How? Not even my sisters have ever heard it. Black started fading my vision and the last thing I saw was Boomer breaking down the door.
"Oh fuck. It's going to be okay just stay awake." Boomer pleaded and took off breaking through the ceiling. Everything went black and all I could hear was mumbles before the world became nothing.
*Eight hours later*
Silence. I could hear a beeping but no voices. Where am I? What happened. A sting ran up my arm and I winced. Wait, why can't I see anything? You're eyes are closed stupid! I opened them to be assaulted by a bright light. I closed them on instinct before opening them to see my angel's smiling face. Butch. He kissed me softly and stared at me thankfully with his big green eyes. Perfection.
"Hey." I whispered my voice hoarse. I looked around at my surrounding and took in the stitches in my arm and the IV in the other. They took me to a civilian hospital. That does a lot of good.
"Welcome back." He whispered with a bright smile before his face fell. "Why?"
"Why what?" I asked confused. He gently help up my arm. You could see how the stitches perfect spelled out Boomer with the line through it and everything.
"Boomer. Butch. Blossom. Bubbles. Brick. Professor. Hate. Brute. Breaker. Burn. Hell." He listed off to me. "Kill me. Artist. Bleed. Pain. Perfect." I knew what each of those had in common. Each was scarred into my skin. "That's not including the 67 cuts on your stomach and back and the 412 cuts on your arms and legs. Why?" That few? I could of swore there were more.
"And?" I asked him without thinking.
"Why would you do that to yourself?" He asked his eyes full of tears.
"It's easier to deal with physical pain than to deal with emotional pain or did you think I was this relaxed without an addiction?" I asked.
"How didn't anyone notice them?" He asked.
"Hollywood grade make-up. It covers virtually anything." I shrugged the best I could. He nodded and stared at me thoughtfully. He sat down in the chair beside me and grabbed the surgical knife and slid it down him arm without a sound or noise. Blood trickled from the 3 inch cut. He copied it again without a sign of distress.
"What are you doing?" I asked him weakly and scared. "Stop that!" I yelled. Why is he hurting himself? That idiot!
"Now you know how I felt when I saw those scars. Buttercup, I love you. You are my soul. Why would you hurt yourself! It scares me." He cried. "You are the most beautiful girl that's ever been. You're perfect in every way. Scars and all. I don't want to see you do this to yourself so for every scar you have, I'm going to have ten." He cut a third time.
"Stop it!" I yelled with tears flooding my cheeks.
"Why should I! Is this the only way I'm going to be able to show you that you shouldn't hurt yourself! When you hurt the girl I'm madly in love with, you're also hurting me. Physically and emotionally." He pleaded with his eyes.
"So that's why you took Boomer's side!" I yelled still upset.
"I took Boomer's side because I don't want you fighting monsters. I can't stand the thought of any of them hurting you. I was there once. I know what the mind set of a cold blooded killer is. I know you're strong but I'm afraid one day you'll find a monster that is stronger, faster, and better. If anything happened to you, I'd kill myself." He explained. He didn't have my back so he could protect it. Wow, I'm an idiot.
"What did I do?" He asked and traced his name on the scar on my skin. I looked away.
"That was the night you propose." I whispered.
"You don't want to marry me?" He asked.
"NO! I do! That's why there was a heart around your name but it didn't scar, only your name." I tried to explain but I still couldn't look him in the eye. He kissed my wrist.
"It's okay. I understand. We'll get through this, together." He assured me. I smiled and finally felt a bit of hope.
"Wow, together, we're like a walking SixBillionSecrets." Bubbles giggled as she and Blossom walking in with their boyfriends in tow.
"Cutting, suicide, relationship problems, sex, impregnation, and the occasional glit of hope. Sounds good." I laughed. "God, I love that website."
"How couldn't you? Without it I wouldn't understand how hard LGBTs get judged." Bubbles reminded us.
"I would of been an easy whore. Don't you dare say it, Butch." Blossom narrowed her eyes playfully at him. They made up like a week ago. Three weeks without them talking was hell.
"And suicide would of actually been an option." I sighed. "Seriously, just because I cut doesn't mean I'm suicidal!" I replied to their internal question. "Stupid stereotypes." I grumbled.
"Boomer, thank you." Butch randomly told Boomer. Huh?
"Hey, she's my baby sister." Boomer smiled. Huh?
"Did I miss something?" I asked confused.
"Nope." They all replied knowingly. I hate them sometimes.
"Well, it looks like you're reacting well to the blood transfusions." Dr. Cool-hair told me as he walked into the room.
"Yes, yes I am." I smiled. Dude, how does he do his hair. It's like spiky but straight at the same time yet it looks professional.
"And, Blossom Utonium." He turned to Blossom. "We did the blood work while we were matching you for the transfusion and looks like congratulations are in order." He smiled broadly.
"What?" She asked looking confused.
"On your pregnancy." He prompted. Say what?
"Excuse me!" She choked. His face fell.
"I'm sorry. I did't realize you weren't aware but based on your hormone count you're about a month along." He informed us.
"No, that can't be possible! I took the morning after pill!" She exclaimed.
"What about with Blake?" Butch questioned her. Her face fell and tears peaked over her eyes.
"Blossom! I gave you a bunch of those for a reason!" I groaned frustrated. Stupid, stupid girl. She fell back in her chair and hit her head against the wall.
"Yay! I get to be an aunty!" Bubbles squealed.
"Do you actually think I'm keeping it!" Blossom yelled like she was crazy.
"Well, you can't kill him or her!" Bubbles yelled back.
"Watch me!" She screamed. "It's not your body! You know exactly what teenage mothers look like. Whores. I am not a whore nor will I be labeled one!"
"So you would rather be a murderer!" Bubbles screamed back. Oi. Why can't that girl just understand the concept of birth control.
"Stop fighting!" I yelled over them. They quieted and looked at me.
"Bubbles, it's Blossy's choice if she wants to keep it or not. Blossom, please respect that Bubbles has a very idealistic view of our world and abortion is one of the many things she has always protested." I calmed them. "You shouldn't run from your responsibilities, either. Don't do the crime if you can't do the time."
"It's not your body." Blossom reminded me.
"Blossy, do you think that low of Brick? I'm sure he's not going to be disgusted with you if you put on a little weight." I argued. She pouted.
"I guess not." She mumbled and looked up at Brick and hugged him. "What about the CIA?" She questioned.
"Leave that to me." I smiled. Finally, maybe I'll get some action!
"Buttercup, there's something we need to tell you. They want to put you in their psych ward." Butch frowned.
"WHAT!" I screamed and I saw red.
"Calm down, BC." Brick grabbed my arm before I could do anything with it. I let out a deep breath and sighed.
"I am not crazy." I gritted my teeth.
"We know that but you almost died; it scares us." Bubbles explained.
"Gosh! I was angry! Will you people chill!" I grunted. This is so unfair. "I'm a super hero. I save lives not take them. Even my own. I refuse to stay in an insane asylum!"
"Crazies don't know they're crazy." Boomer reminded me with a playful grin. I stuck my tongue out at him.
"You're kind of a messed up family aren't you." Dr. Cool-hair asked.
"Yeps!" We all laughed.
"Doc, I'm not mental. I'm like Leonardo Di Vinci! I bleed for my art." I tried to explain without sounding mental.
"See, that's what I told him!" A kid in the doorway yelled. He was only about 12 years old or so. He had shaggy blonde hair and icy blue eyes. That's not what I noticed first though. The only thing I could see were the scars and gahses up and down his body. His face was torn to pieces and his arms had long lines of stitches in them. The parts of his legs that I could see were bloody and scarred and blood was stained onto his gown most likely from pulling stitches. 12 years old and he's already that scared. I gasped and walked up to him. I traced the stitches that ran across his neck and face stunned. I could feel my arms were I had pulled the IVs out by getting up. In his arms were drawings and names just like mine. I looked at his eyes and he honestly didn't know how bad this was. Tears fell from my eyes and I hugged him tightly.
"Don't be like me." I whispered. "Don't ever do this to yourself ever again. It's not art work. It's a sick obsession. It's like snorting cocaine or smoking cigarettes. Please. Don't do this to yourself. You're young. Scars are forever."
"Why? You do it?" He asked genuinely confused. "It makes the pain go away."
"I'm stupid." I explained. "There are other ways to deal with pain!"
"Like how?" He asked. I smiled broadly. I picked him up not wanting him to rip any stitches and flew him to the children's wing. I walked over to a finger painting board and grabbed a brush and red paint. I handed them to him.
"What do I do with these?" He asked confused.
"Anything." I smiled breathless. He dipped the brush into the paint and put it onto the canvas with a gently stroke. He smiled a little bit. He slashed the paint across the canvas and broader smile developed on his face. He kept painting and I watched as the lines came together to form a red version of me. Different shades and lines and textures. He was a beautiful artist. Better than any Picasso I've seen.
"It's amazing." He whispered. "How did you know that?" He asked me curiously.
"An artist can recognize a fellow artist." I grinned. He looked down at my arm and his.
"How about we make a deal. Let's never be so stupid again." He chuckled. "Next time this Boomer guys makes you mad, you call me and we'll do something. We'll paint the town greener than your eyes."
"And next time you need something to distract you, ring me up." I wrote my cell on a piece of paper and he did the same.
"I'm Boston by the way." He laughed realizing we never exchanged names.
"I'm Buttercup." I laughed. What a cool little kid.
"Hmmm. I have a feeling this is the beginning to an amazing friendship." He grinned ear to ear.
"Maybe, as a friend, I should tell you that you have something right there." I pointed to his gown. He looked down and I slipped my finger into the blue paint and painted his nose. He gasped and looked at me utterly shocked before he grabbed the can of green paint and dumped it on me. Let's just say, paint wars get messy.
A Message From Our Characters:
Hello, I'm Buttercup Utonium. In this chapter you found out that I had an extreme addiction to self-harm. Self-harm isn't cool or a good way to handle pain as demonstrated by Boston. I could of very easily died from it. Self-harm is as much an addiction as any drug. If someone you know is self-harming don't be afraid to talk to them about it. You might very well save their lives. Remind them why they shouldn't do that to themselves. If you self-injure and don't feel comfortable telling someone you know or trust please don't be afraid to find out information on www (dot) twloha (dot) com or read others' stories at www (dot) sixbillionsecrets (dot) com. The best thing you can do is tell a trusted adult and receive the help you need. Most epiphanies unlike mine do not occur so fast and relapses are normal. I am begging you to please tell someone and please save yourself. Remember, you are beautiful and special no matter what anyone says. Most importantly, even if you don't think anyone cares, I and everyone involved in A Joking Matter (which self injuring is not) cares deeply about you and we'd all cry if you weren't here with us for another day.