GWEN
I WALKED into the practice room to see if I could find Jessie in there (he likes to hang out around various weapons for no evident reason). Who I found though wasn't Jessie.
"Vee? What are you doing?" I asked my brother. He was standing in front of the weapon racks with his back to me, one of the training knives in his left hand, his right hand clenched into a fist. He was wearing a black T-shirt and sweatpants. He turned around at the sound of my voice, and I saw that his eyes were red and puffy, like he'd been crying.
"Vee, what's wrong?" I asked him worriedly. Vee never lets anyone see him cry; and if he does cry, he usually isolates himself in his room. The practice room wasn't exactly a good place to isolate himself.
He laughed scoffingly and paced a few steps, his tail flicking angrily behind him. "You don't know, do you?" He spat at me, glaring like I'd done something to hurt him. I shook my head and he started pacing again. His knuckles were white (well, white-er) on the hilt of the knife, the blade catching the light. It looked freshly sharpened, like he was planning on using it.
"Vee, what's going on? Why are you acting like this?" I was starting to get scared. Vee noticed the fear in my eyes and curled his lip. He stopped pacing in front of the back wall directly in front of the doorway, unfolding his fist. He looked so distressed and unhappy. His breathing was ragged and his eyes teared up as he turned to face me again, gripping the knife tightly.
   "W-what are you doing?" I stuttered, fear rising in my throat as Vee rotated the knife in his hand, holding it so that the blade was pointing toward the wall behind him.
   "I'm done," he said loudly.
   "Done with what? Vee, what's wrong?" I was so worried that I felt my eyes start to tear up.
   He growled. "Everything, Gwen. I'm done with this!" His voice cracked with emotion, going an octave higher than normal. (Which was high.)
   I heard the door open behind me and my dad's voice said, "What's going on in here?"
   "Octaveus is. . ." I trailed off without looking behind me at my dad, keeping my gaze on Octaveus, tears starting to run down my face. Dad walked over to stand beside me, Mom on my other side.
"Son, put the knife down," he ordered Vee, but I could hear a hint of fear in his voice. Octaveus glared at him, but made no movement to let go of the blade.
   "No!" He was practically shouting now. Tears streamed down his face. "I'm sick of this! I'm sick of all of it!"
   It almost sounded like he was blaming himself for something, probably what's made him so upset. Suddenly Jessie was on my dad's other side.
   "What are you talking about? You've never acted like this before!" Dad fired back.
   "Oh, you don't even know!" Octaveus held up the knife, pointing the hilt at Dad. He thrust his wrist out to us, baring the fresh scars there. Dad and Mom didn't look phased, but Jessie's face filled with horror.
   "You. . . you--" Jessie stammered, staring at his brother. I didn't understand; of all of us, Jessie should know about the scars, he'd given them to him, during battle training. Or at least, that's what Vee had told us. . .
   Vee wiped his eyes on the back of his hand, but more tears soon replaced the others, and raised the knife so that the blade was pointing down at his own collarbone. My parent's eyes widened in horror and Jessie screamed, "NO!" as Octaveus closed his eyes, his face relaxing, and thrust the knife downward.
   In the next second, Jessie had lunged across the room and barrelled into Octaveus' chest, knocking him backward. Octaveus' hand jerked forward when Jessie hit him and the knife, instead of piercing his heart, sliced deep into his forearm. He screamed in pain and rage, the calm look that was on his face gone, replaced by agony again, doubling over and clutching his forearm as blood poured from it onto the floor. He had dropped the knife when it had sliced his arm and Dad lunged forward and snatched it off the ground before Vee could try to get to it again. The blade was coated with blood.
   Vee's hesitation had given Jessie just enough time to think of a way to restrain his brother, and he grabbed Vee from behind, pinning his arms to his stomach and forcing him to kneel on the floor. Octaveus unwillingly kneeled with Jessie still behind him, pinning his arms to his sides, and let out a stream of French cuss words at his brother.
   "I WANT TO DIE," he sobbed at the ceiling, digging his fingernails into Jessie's arms, but for some reason he didn't unsheathe his claws. He struggled to loosen Jessie's grip, but Jessie held him fast. Mom put her arms around me and we both cried together. Tears made little rivers down Vee's face, dripping to mix with the steady stream of blood on the floor coming from his arm. Vee put his head down, pressing his forehead onto the floor in front of him, and Jessie held him there. His shoulders shook as he sobbed into the floor, still cussing at Jessie in French, but now the stream of cuss words was a little weaker.
   Jessie looked down at his brother between his arms before quickly unwrapping his arms from around Vee and grabbing his head. "I'm sorry," he muttered, lifting Vee's face off the floor a little and quickly slamming his forehead back down on the tile, knocking him out instantly. Vee's body went limp, his sobs immediately stopping, and Jessie unfolded himself from the floor, sitting by Vee's head and pulling his brother's newly injured arm out from under him so that Dad could see it. I thought I saw tears start running down Jessie's cheeks. Mom left the room and I could hear her talking on her phone in the hallway as Dad went over to Vee and just cradled his son's unconscious body on the floor.

SUMMER
"What? I don't understand," I said to Gwen. "Why would he try to do that?"
"I don't know," Gwen replied, looking at the floor momentarily. Her curly black hair framed her pale face, her large green eyes were filled with worry.
She fidgeted with the edge of the Fall Out Boy T-shirt she was wearing. She had obviously "borrowed" the T-shirt from Octaveus, judging by how wide the shoulders and sleeves were stretched. (She'd said that wearing his shirt reminded her of how he used to be, before he tried to kill himself.) That boy was so thin that it didn't matter how wide the bottom of the shirt was, it'd most likely fit him. As it was, the hem of the shirt was tight against Gwen's frame, though the collar was lower on her than it was on her brother. I guess I just never noticed how low the collar was on him, now that I thought about it, I do remember it being lower/wider on him than most of his other shirts were. Why am I obsessing over this?
"Well," Gwen said as an afterthought. "Now that I think about it, he was being extra antisocial that day, and he didn't seem like he was very happy."
"How was he acting?" I verbally prodded her.
"Well, he was just moping around in his room and he wouldn't talk to any of us. He's usually pretty social to us, or at least wants food. Yesterday, he just. . . he was so upset. . ." She put her head down again, and I rubbed her back. She stared blankly at the ground, lost in her own memories, and I couldn't help but notice resemblance between her and her brother. Her black hair had fallen over the left side of her face and gave her that I'm-hurting-internally look that Octaveus always wore that had made so many girls (and some guys) go nuts for him. (By "so many," I mean all but me, and by "some" I mean any that weren't intimidated by him.) The red on the Fall Out Boy T-shirt brightened the green of her eyes and made her skin look paler (though not even close to being as pale as her brother). She was wearing a grey beanie that crowded her curly black hair over her shoulders like a wavy dark curtain.
"How did I not notice he was depressed before?" I sighed aloud to myself, slightly ashamed.
"Vee's always been a good actor," Gwen responded quietly, not taking her eyes off the floor.
I put my arm around her small shoulders. "He's going to be okay," I reassured her, not really thinking if it was true or not. "He's getting help now. He's going to be fine."
Gwen leaned into my embrace and let me comfort her silently. Then suddenly she said, "He's not getting better."
"What?" I asked startled by the force and sadness in her words.
She looked at me, tears welling in her large green eyes. "I saw him. They keep him so drugged that he can barely move so that he doesn't try to hurt himself again, and someone has to be in the room with him all the time. He's refusing food, and all he wants to do is sleep. He says it's the only time he's not in mental pain. They've tested him so many times, it's like. . ."
She started crying and I pulled her into a side hug. We sat like that for a while, comforting each other silently. 
Eventually Drew came up to us and sat on Gwen's other side, just silently rubbed her back in comfort. He had been even more upset than I was when he'd found out about Vee. (I knew that Vee and Drew liked each other, even though they only officially knew each other for a couple days, they just didn't know that the other liked them back.) He said he'd tried calling Vee earlier that day to comfort him and he hadn't responded. The three of us sat there, and I couldn't help but think, maybe it was my fault.
Vee had tried to tell me the truth about him Wednesday after school, but I hadn't listened. The truth was, he'd scared me. I mean, it's bad enough when the normal truth sucks, but when the less-believable truth sucks even worse? That's hard. Especially when it's your truth. He'd tried to relieve himself of some of that truth by telling me, and what did I say when he did? I don't know you. I remembered the look of hurt on his face before he turned away.
I was the reason he'd tried to commit suicide. I made him feel bad enough that he felt the need to end his life. It is my fault.

"Who else have you told?" I asked Gwen gently. She shifted in Drew's and my hug, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand before answering.
"Just you two," she said. "Anna has already seen him."
Drew looked at her. "How are Jessie and your parents reacting?"
"Mom and Dad, they can't believe that he'd been hurting himself and they never noticed until then. And Jessie. . . he's devastated. I've never seen him spend so much time in the same room as Vee without them trying to kill each other."
I chuckled lightly. "They fight a lot, don't they?"
Gwen chuckled, though it was half-hearted. "Yeah. Well, normally, at least. Now Jessie just sits by Vee's bed and talks to him-- even if he's asleep."
I nodded. We sat there a little longer like that before Gwen said, "I should probably get home now. I want to see Vee again before he passes out for the night."
"Tell us how he's doing tomorrow, okay?" I said softly as she got up, separating our three-way embrace. She nodded, said good-bye to us, and walked down the street, taking the same route that Vee did after school.

Ok that's the end of the 'EXTREME TRIGGER WARNING' thanks for putting up with it. This next chapter will be slightly depressing but there will be no trigger warning on it. Thank you all for reading this, I really appreciate it! Remember to feel free to comment or suggest on anything!
— Snake Eyes