(Trigger warning*[Run cinnamon rolls, rUN])

** Third Person's P.O.V **

Fresh stood up from his shaking form and walked to the mini kitchen. He opened one of the cabinets and there, lay the blade. His only friend that comforted him throughout this process. He grabbed the blade as his hand shook violently. "H..h..h-he..y..t-there..old....f..friend" he touched the blade softly, blood staining his finger as he does so. He began to roll up his sleeves, some cuts healed, but most didn't. He looked at the scars, they looked ugly. Just like him. He started to slide the blade against his boney skin and sliding it across the unhealed ones. "T-this i-is for b-b-being..an idiot" he says, cutting another unhealed cut, whimpering. The voices began to lower, but was still chanting, screaming, yelling, forcing him to continue.

Tears threatened to spill, he let them. Blood dripped onto his hand and onto the floor. He had ruined his naive self, but he was still innocent. "Why did I even e-exist in this world? Why do you have love someone that broke your heart? WHY DOES EVERYTHING HATE ME? Why do you hate me? Why are you stupid? Why are you dumb? Why are you blind? Why are you a worthless, pathetic excuse of disgrace? Why? Why?!" He whimpered, sobbing. He was down on his knees, blood littered underneath him like a blood bath. His clothes were stained with splashes and drips of blood. He tried to release his anger but is too dizzy to do so.

He laid on the floor as blood continued to flow out of his bones and onto the floor. He weakly sat up, 'is this the end?' He thought. He sighed, standing up, he whimpered in pain. The voices had stopped and was only laughing at him. He ignored the opinions of his own broken mind. How can one person make him feel like this? He held the counter for balance and to help him walk. He reached up another cabinet weakly, reaching out to a aid kit. He kept bandages right here, in case if this happened. He took out some pain killers so we could numb the pain. The blade not only comforted him but pushed him further into depression, pressuring him and weighing him down so he would not tell not another soul about it.

He walked over to the sink and washed his bloody arm. Once clean, he put some disinfectant before wrapping it up with bandages. He the undressed and changed with new clothes, he tossed the bloody ones in the laundry basket to wash later. He then proceeded to wash his face due to some blood fleeing and ended up on his face. Just as he washed his face, he put on some gloves. From now on, he will wear gloves so no one can see the ugly scars that lay beneath it. He doesn't care if everyone would keep on asking about it, he'll just ignore it. He sighed, feeling so tired after all the blood, cleaning and other stuff. He sighed frustration, he forgot that he had homework, why does school have to make himself frustrated at the worst times of the day? By just thinking of homework, he already feels to stressed.

He sighed, he doesn't want to procrastinate on one piece of paper. "Homework wouldn't hurt right?" He was wrong, he spent all night doing his homework and studying for a test that is due tomorrow. "Helllllllllllllllllllll" he whined, he wished it was Friday today but nope, Dear, Lord, God, Jesus Christ didn't help him this time. It's Wednesday today. He growled in frustration, "I wanna die right now. But I'm too young, i still have alot of things to do in life" he muttered, making the right decision. But does it mean that he's on the right path?(hmm😑)

After all the homework and studying, it was 10:12 already so got ready for bed. He tried to sleep and Dream, which happend to work.

'Am I dreaming?'

'Is this a dream?'

'*sees pj*'

'No, a nighmare'

"Another day of hell"