I had no idea what to do for this one, so projection time it is! Please be warned that this fic contains graphic descriptions of self-harm. Take care of yourselves! :)

Prompt used: "Let the bedsheet soak up the tears."


Another sob broke out of his throat, and this time he shoved his knuckles in his mouth to keep himself quiet so his family wouldn't hear.

He held his breath to keep the sobs from breaking out. He couldn't stop crying. Since he'd started, there was no holding back from letting all his pain out.

His lungs burned, and he gasped as a breath finally made its way in. The tears continued to stream down his face and soaked the pillow beneath him, but at least the cries were quieter now.

He just hurt so bad. He couldn't even pinpoint what it was that had started this stream of pain. There wasn't anything specific. It was just a build up of agony and sadness that reached breaking point.

He knew that there was only one way to make this pain go away, to release it all so he could finally stop crying and go to sleep.

He staggered as he stood up from his bed, and he stumbled in the dark towards his desk. He pulled out the top drawer, and rummaged around until he wrapped his hand around the familiar object.

The silver blades glistened in the minimal light coming through the curtains. He opened the scissors, and placed the sharp edge against the tip of his finger.

He only hesitated for a moment, before he sliced down.

It was only a small wince that escaped him as the pain sparked for a moment. It was something, but it wasn't enough.

He placed the scissors against his finger again in a fresh spot, and sliced again.

He did it a few times, now in a rhythm. He only hesitated on the first one, but then it came naturally as he made several cuts into his fingertips. With each cut, he could feel his pain channel into the sting and it was taken away from the hurt inside him.

Soon, he just felt numb, and the sobs stopped coming. He could breathe a little easier as the weight was taken off his chest, and he blinked as he registered what he was doing.

He walked into the bathroom and fumbled for the light switch. He grimaced as the bright light hit his eyes that were too used to the darkness of his room, and he staggered over to the sink.

He dropped the bloody scissors into the basin, and made a note to clean them so no one could see them and know what he was doing. However, that would have to wait, as he glanced down at his throbbing hand and found the streams of blood that were creating lines across the back and palm of his hand.

He switched the tap on, and let the cold water wash over his hand. He scrubbed his skin so it was nearly as red as the water that ran down the drain, and eventually the blood was gone as several of the cuts stopped bleeding.

There were a couple that still steadily dripped droplets of blood, so he turned to the toilet roll and pulled off several sheets. He didn't have any plasters or bandages in his bathroom as he had used them all up, and he didn't have the energy to go downstairs and hunt for some, so this would have to do.

He wrapped the sheets around the worst of his fingers, and then he headed back out of the room.

He flicked the light off as he went, and made his way back over to his bed.

He fell down on the sheets. He didn't have any energy to get beneath the blankets, but he was too tired to care. At least he didn't feel like he was breaking from the inside anymore. He just felt exhausted.

He closed his eyes as he burrowed his face into the pillow, and pulled his tissue covered hand to his chest. It still hurt, but he could focus on that and not the torment going on in his mind.

He wasn't aware of when he fell asleep, but he was thankful the darkness came.