Don't tell me I don't know what I'm talking about. This is bassed off a story from my real life.
Pierre snapped out of his thoughts at that realisation. He knew he needed to stop thinking or he'd end up doing something really bad.
He knew what he needed to do, it was still bad but it wasn't quite as bad as ending his life like he'd been thinking.
It seemed insane but sometimes when he couldn't stop thinking cutting himself made his thoughts calm down and slow his breathing when he panicked. It wasn't that bad of a thing to do, the blood loss made him tired anyway he just needed to remember not to let his sleeves come up so people didn't think he was crazy. Sure the cuts left scars but they weren't life threatening, some probably required stitches but he just bandaged them up with the bandages he'd stolen from the infermory.
He knew Rachin would have him shipped to the nut house if the staff found out and he knew the other boys would make fun of him for being crazy if they found out. So he kept it to himself. It was ok. He was fine as long as he had this.
He pulled out his craft knife from inside his pillow case (it was contraband so he had to hide it) and rolled his sleeves up. His forearms were a complete mess of thick red lines some faded purpley white with age. They were all healed because he'd been trying to stop, he didn't want to be relient on anything for his peace of mind. But desperate times call for desperate measures.
He didn't usually cut very deep though sometimes by accident he did, but he didn't care enough sometimes to do anything about them. If he died, he died.
He'd been doing this for about a year, since he was 12. He'd become more a d more depressed since starting at Fond De L'Etang and he knew that's how it would continue.
He pressed the sharp end of the knife into the skin of his right forearm and pulled it across his arm. He made 10 cuts neatly lined up along his arm. It wasn't enough but the blood was already running down his arm, he pressed some tissue paper from the roll he'd taken from the bathroom against his arm then started again, 10 more then another 10 then another until he had 40 bleeding cuts adorning his right arm. He bandaged up his arm before he got blood on the sheets, then he made 40 cuts on his left arm so it was even and bandaged up his left arm too.
If any of the other boys woke up when he did this he was done for, but they didn't usually and it was difficult to see in the dark anyway so he could just pull his sleeves down and lie down until they went back to sleep.
After he bandaged up both arms and hid the tissue paper, he finally managed to fall asleep.
