Will sat down, and rested his head on his fists. He looked up and down. No one, except him, was in there. He shakily pulled out something he had been waiting for so long to try.
He took out a razor, one thing that his mom gave him, but she never thought it would be for this purpose. He set it on his skin and pulled forward, quickly. Still, it wasn't enough pressure to cut the skin.
He set it on his skin, pressing it a little harder to his skin, and pulled forward, faster this time, and sure enough, where he had cut, it had red liquid bubbling up to the surface.
He shut his eyes, it stung so bad. But then, he felt nothing, just forgot everything, that he was gay, that he was bullied, that he had no real friends. He was lost in a world that didn't exist, surrounded by anxiety and depression.
He made a "C" slowly cutting it. When he was done, there was a significant 'G' plastered on his arm, the letter brimming with red. He didn't know it at first, but definitely at this time knew what he was going to write.
He dragged the razor across his skin again and again, so much he felt weightlessness.
Slash.
Free.
Slash.
Flying.
Slash.
It's going to be okay.
Slash.
With that, he got startled and woke up from his sleepless sleep, his entering into a different dimension.
He blinked, thrice, and was jolted back to reality. He stared down at his arms, streaks of red running down from his wrists, to the soft skin above his elbows. There, however, was three letters wrote down on his arm.
But they weren't any random letters, no. They spelt out a word, a word that he hated most. G-A-Y was scratched down onto his arm. No, no one cares that he wasn't even gay. None of that bisexual crap.
You were either straight or gay, nothing in between. Will had believed that for so long, he started to think he was gay too, but he wasn't. He was bisexual. He knew. He also knew that gays were shunned and straights loved. Will believed that too.
Will soaked up the red, the unusual satisfaction he got from harming himself. He remembered something that happened when he was young.
-FLASHBACK-
"Mama, what's that?" Will said.
"Sweetie, it's...um..." Mama said.
There was a person doing something to their skin-a knife? Why were they doing that? Is that blood?
Little Will thought why people did that. Why would someone purposely damage themselves?
Little Will thought he would never do that, he would tell someone if he was sad.
Little Will couldn't have been more wrong.