Leo felt guilty. He'd only cut a few more lines that one time, but he knew it wasn't going to be long before it became only twice, and then only three times, and then only ten times, and on and on and on. He wanted to confess to his mom, the one person who had been with him throughout it all. She had been the one to pull him out of it the first two times. But what the Voice had said to him struck a nerve. He really did rely on his mom too much. He needed to sort out his emotions on his own.

He felt so guilty, though, that he couldn't eat at dinner. Only his mom seemed concerned about his lack of appetite. When no one else was looking, she shot him a look, as if to ask him if he was alright. He smiled as best as he could, trying to hide behind his fairly recent coping mechanism, and shot out a sarcastic comment on how the smell of the cooking made him lose his appetite.

He was pretty sure his mom didn't buy the excuse. After all, he always ate what was in front of him, no matter how disgusting it looked or smelled. Leo was positive that his mom was going to find out about his … accident … a lot sooner than he'd expected. Of course, she'd seen the signs twice now. A third time was unlikely to slip past her. So he did the logical thing; he avoided her – Like a coward.

For the next few days, Leo avoided his mom as best as he could. He spent all of his time either at school, in the lab, or in his room. His room was his least favorite, because then he was alone with the Voice. At school, he could concentrate on worksheets and lectures and not getting bullied – You're still bullied? Pathetic. – and in the lab, he was distracted by all of the cool inventions and just hanging out with Adam, Bree, and Chase – They don't really want you around. You're too human. Too normal. Too stupid to know anything. That's why they don't believe you. – but in his bedroom, it was just him and the Voice.

Leo did his best to avoid cutting. He carried his sharpie on him at all times and drew flowers on his arms and legs, wearing jeans and long sleeves to hide them. But he was on his own this time, which meant that he was fighting a losing battle against himself. And he knew how the battle went.

Eddy made fun of him for all the flowers, which the computer saw whenever Leo showered. Leo used the water running down his face as a good cover to cry. He watched the flowers on his arms and legs fade and drip away every time his cleaned himself. He rubbed himself raw, accidentally opening a few of his cuts, which only spiked his need to hurt himself. Eddy never commented on the cuts, giving Leo the impression that the computer couldn't see him from a certain angle. For that, he was both disappointed and relieved.

Leo's fight against the Voice wavered. He tried to remember the techniques his therapist had told him, tried to remind himself of his mom, tried to make himself believe that his family loved him. In the end, though, after only four days, he stopped trying. He cut his stomach, right over the old scarred ones. And he cried.

He cried because he knew he was weak. He cried because he was ashamed of who he'd become, of who he used to be. He cried because he was guilty and he wanted so very badly to tell someone but at the same time he wanted to keep it a secret. He argued with himself over the issue for so long. He knew it was wrong, he knew the Voice wasn't real. He couldn't stop himself; he could never convince himself to go to his mom.

He managed to convince himself that his mom was better off not knowing, anyway.

7 years ago

Leo: age 7

Daddy was still sick. Leo had figured out that whatever was in those bottles – the stuff with the yucky smell – was making his daddy sick. Leo tried to tell his daddy that. After all, as soon as his daddy stopped drinking the bad stuff, then he would get better and wouldn't be mad all the time.

Daddy was mad when Leo brought it up. Daddy smacked him and broke his wrist. After a trip to the hospital, mommy told Leo not to mention the bad drink again. Leo didn't understand. If the bad stuff made daddy mad, then why can't daddy just stop drinking it? Mommy didn't have an answer for him.

One time, his daddy got a call from the school, telling him that they were concerned because Leo didn't have any friends and was afraid of the male teachers. Leo wasn't sure what his daddy said to that; he only knew that after that phone call, no teachers called home again. His daddy hit him and yelled at him, asking him why he was so beeping useless, why he was so stupid, if he wanted his daddy to get in trouble. Leo burst into tears, begging to be let go, saying that he loved his daddy and that he didn't want anyone to get in trouble.

Mommy entered the room, then, and pulled Leo away from his daddy. Mommy begged daddy to leave Leo alone, that he was just a kid. Daddy shouted at her and hit her more than usual. He threw her onto the floor and ripped her skirt. He unzipped his jeans, and that was when mommy told Leo to go to his room. Leo protested, but his mommy ordered him to run and plug his ears.

Leo stayed in his bedroom, but he didn't cover his ears. He didn't know what was happening. All he knew was that his mommy was screaming and begging for his daddy to stop – stop what? – and his daddy saying that she wanted it because she wanted him – but wanted what? Leo curled up in a ball in his closet to block out the screams and the grunts. He didn't know what was happening. This had never happened before. And it scared him.

His mommy never told him what happened, even when he asked. But whatever his daddy had done to mommy kept happening. It didn't happen as much as the hitting and the kicking, but sometimes, after his daddy had had a lot of the bad drink and was in a really bad mood, the screams and the grunts happened again. And every time, his mommy told him to leave the room.

Leo wished he knew what made his mommy hurt like that. He wished he knew how to make it better. He wished he knew how to make her stop crying. But he didn't, so he curled up in his closet with the bedroom door locked and cried, too.