"You never told Jeff?" Nick's mother's eyes were surprised.

"He doesn't need to know," Nick muttered. "I've put it behind me now, anyways. There's no reason to tell him."

"I almost let it slip the other day when he came over," she said. "I had no clue that you kept it a secret from him. I thought you told him everything?"

Nick tensed up. "What did you say to him?" he demanded warily.

"Nothing too revealing," she eased. "But I thought you trusted him. Why didn't you ever tell him in the first place?"

"I was ashamed," he mumbled. "I never wanted to look back on that, and I figure telling people won't do any good for me. Can't we just drop this, please?"

She sighed. "Alright. I won't bring it up again," she assured. "Unless I need to call your therapist again? You've been awfully depressed lately." It sounded almost like a threat.

"No, mom. I'm fine, okay? I'm going back to school on Monday," he told her. "I just needed to take a few days for my mental health. You know how screwed up it is."

She sighed with exasperation. "Alright, then. If you say so," she said.

He waved her away, and she reluctantly left his room. Once she was gone, he got up and moved across the room to close the door. He paused and touched the doorknob with his fingertips. A few years ago, this door had a lock…But like every other room Nick had access to, the lock had been removed. Only the front door, back door, and the door to his parents' room had locks still installed. His father had removed all of them, disallowing their son from ever locking himself in a room where they couldn't reach him. You could call it overbearing or overprotective, but they had a good reason for it.

Nick moved back to his bed and sat at the corner. He pushed the sleeve of his jacket up to reveal his bare wrist. The jagged scar that traveled down his wrist had paled to a barely noticeable white line, but it was still there nonetheless. It would always be there. He had a matching scar on the other wrist.

These scars brought back terrible memories to some of his darkest hours. It had been back in seventh grade. He had done this to himself with all intentions of severing the line to his own life. It was probably his greatest regret in his life, and these scars only reminded him of the unbearable pain and suffering he'd been forced to go through…

…

His shoulders were bruised from constantly being shoved into lockers, to the point where he winced in pain when he had to carry a light load of books. People booed at him when he entered a classroom, and sometimes people threw paper wads at him. Sometimes, they had hidden messages written in them when you uncrumpled the paper, like 'freak' or 'psychopath' or 'creep.'

Nowadays, he was getting insults that stung far worse. He'd grown accustomed to the usual jives, and sometimes he even agreed with them. He felt like a freak sometimes. He always wished he could be normal, like everyone else.

Now, people shouted, "Faggot," and "queer," at him in the halls. Others gave him nasty looks. Some actually physically abused him, mostly by shoving into him.

He had no clue who had outed him. He hadn't told anyone that he was gay, except for Jeff. He didn't want to believe that his best friend—and only friend—had been the one to do this to him. But even though Jeff had sworn he hadn't told a soul, Nick still felt a pit of doubt in his core.

Who else could it have been? Jeff was the only one who had known, and even though it killed him to admit it, he didn't think it could have been anyone else.

He couldn't trust anyone.

One day, Nick finally reached his breaking point. The worst of his bullies, a boy named Tommy, cornered Nick after school.

"Oh, look. It's the freaky queer, come to peek into the boys' locker room," he taunted.

They weren't even anywhere near the locker rooms. Nick tried to move around him, but he grabbed Nick's shoulder and shoved him back, causing him to stumble into the back wall. Terrified, Nick glanced around for help, but there wasn't anyone around who would even care. He cowered against the wall helplessly. "Leave me alone," he pleaded in a tiny voice.

"Aw, are we scared?" he taunted menacingly. "You better be. Gays deserve to die." He inched closer, a fist held to Nick's face.

He couldn't breathe. His heart was pounding frantically and he could feel his entire body trembling uncontrollably. The tears threatened his eyes and he clutched at his chest as it tightened painfully. "P-please," he barely whispered. What had he ever done to Tommy? Why was he doing this?

"Please what, homo?" he demanded menacingly. He was standing so close to Nick that he could feel Tommy's breath against his face. He slammed his fist against the wall right by Nick's face.

He flinched and released a terrified sob. By now, he was gasping for breath and he felt the panic gripping him, shaking him violently to his core. The world was growing dimmer by the moment and no oxygen seemed to reach his lungs. He knew this feeling only too well. It happened far too frequently for his liking, and his therapist had put a name to it: panic attack.

"Do us all a favor, fag, and just kill yourself," Tommy spat in his ear. "No one will miss you." He pulled away and stalked off, leaving Nick leaning against the wall, clutching at his chest, desperate for air and sobbing uncontrollably. He collapsed to the ground, trying to pull himself back together.

Tommy left him physically unscathed…but he'd taken a lethal blow to Nick's emotional well-being.

No one would miss him. No one would care.

He was right.

…

Nick got it back together—for the most part—and walked the way back home, having missed the bus thanks to Tommy. He could at least breathe again, which was more than enough comfort for him. The tears were still streaming down his face, but he knew that was because he couldn't get Tommy's cold words out of his mind. He meant nothing to everyone. Maybe the whole world would be better off without him here. He already felt like he didn't belong.

Before he walked in the front door, he'd made up his mind. He would grant Tommy's wish. He would kill himself, save the trouble for everyone else. No one would ever have to deal with him again after tonight. He would finally be out of their way.

He grabbed the biggest knife he could find from the kitchen and locked himself in his room. He couldn't let his parents find him before it was over with. He dropped to his knees in the middle of the room, knife clutched tight in his hand.

He was afraid of blood, but his resolve was strong. He barely hesitated as he scored the knife along his left wrist, tearing the flesh to make way for a thick stream of bright red blood. He cried out in pain and clenched his teeth. A few salty tears slipped from his face and onto the fresh wound. It stung, but at the same time, the pain seemed to make him feel just a little better inside. He had read somewhere that physical pain eased emotional distress. It seemed kind of ironic to him.

He passed the knife to his left hand and held out his right wrist, touching the cold blade to the blue veins pulsing under his thin skin.

It would all be over soon. He found solace in that thought and he dragged the blade along his warm flesh. The skin tore open easily and the blood pooled up instantly, dripping onto the knife handle. He tossed his weapon aside and let his arms lie limp in his lap. The blood flowed freely, and he didn't think he'd ever seen so much of the thick red liquid before in his life.

It was his life. Draining. Slowly…

…

He'd woken up in the hospital the next morning. His father had come home early that day and he had smelled the blood coming from his son's room. He busted the door open and imagine his dismay when he saw his only son, passed out on the floor, blood flowing freely from both wrists? He took Nick to the hospital, and he'd woken up to his mother sobbing and his father angrily shouting at the doctors.

He was court ordered to see a therapist in order to help resolve his emotional crisis. At first, he hated himself for failing at his attempted suicide. Nowadays, however, he regretted ever trying.

He never told Jeff, and Jeff never found out. It was better that way. He didn't need to know.

Just a small look into Nick's terrible past with bullies, I suppose. Hope you liked it!

Review!