When Nico DiAngelo's asleep, he dreams of dying. When he's awake, he wishes he was dead. When he's blacked out from the pain of cutting too deep, he prays that was the cut that ends it.
But someone always manages to find him, sigh a little bit and send him back to the hospital.
A little too many pills here, a little less blood left in him there. Damn it, I think that's the third time this month that he's been on suicide watch.
Sometimes he thinks life is playing a game with him, "let's see how long it'll take him to screw up again!" His record is eight days. Pretty good, eh?
Oh yes, he loves it. Pain is his drug, and blades are his drug dealer. It's a bit sick actually, the way a smile plays across his face when he thinks of the damage he'll do tonight. The way Nico laughs a little as he thinks up new possibilities that could end with him dying.
He says he wants to join his dead sister, that's she's just beckoning him down to Hell. A little twisted, but he acts like it's completely normal.
Now that was Nico when he was happy. Thinking about death and self-destruction in a slightly more cheerful way.
There were times when his depression got the better of him. When he couldn't stop thinking about his dead sister, dead-beat father and hopefully dead mother, and he was also, in some way, dying inside. Because today isn't worth living, neither is tomorrow, oh and surprise, he doesn't feel like being alive for at least the next week.
Yes, of course it's painful. It's self harm, it burns, it stings, it aches, it leaves nasty scars that leave everyone wondering what from. That's the whole freaking point. He enjoys feeling the smooth blade lightly skim his thighs before gradually putting more and more force on it until... Ah. Relief. Like all his problems and suicidal thoughts have drifted away. At least until the pain slowly dulls.
Nico isn't ashamed of the lines criss-crossing the insides of his wrists. He doesn't care who notices the burn marks trailing his stomach when his shirt rides up. Sure, he isn't necessarily proud of them, but why bother covering them when someone will find out anyway? If he makes a big deal of hiding them, they'll make a big deal of finding them.
Sometimes they mistake the scars for stretch marks, cat scratches or paper cuts for instance. How they could think of something so meaningless when they see them, Nico does not know.
One more cut for Bianca, another burn for his mother, an extra bruise for his father. So much more significant then stretch marks, cat scratches and paper cuts.