Pretty boys

14. Self Harm

Tw

3rd Person

Lydia lied in bed next to a sleeping Patrick, contemplating what had just happened.

She didn't regret it, her times with Patrick were simply to die for, but what about Vic?

Vic had been there for her since the beginning. 

They had been friends since before they became a group with the other three.

He was her first everything.

Her first kiss, her first sleepover, her first date, her first time.

Now she had thrown that away for a fucking psychopath.

Holy shit she was in love with a psychopath.

Patrick was different from Vic, he wasn't as gentle, he was rougher.

He was more aggressive, but in a loving way.

He had never hurt Lydia in a way she didn't want to be hurt. 

She felt dirty, she felt like a slut.

A worthless, pathetic, little slut who sleeps around with any guy who gives her even a small amount of attention because of her raging fucking daddy issues.

Maybe that was the problem, maybe her dad was the fucking problem.

Maybe her not getting enough attention as a child was the problem, that's why she seeks out any little piece of validation from any older man.

Even guys her age.

Anyone really.

She wants what she couldn't have as a child, she wants a daddy.

She wants someone who will kiss her head and tuck her in at night.

She wants someone who will take her shopping at the mall and then spoil her with ice cream afterwards.

She wants someone who will kiss her injuries and tell her it will be okay.

She wants someone who will actually listen to her, someone who actually loves her.

Patrick was that guy. 

He was the one.

He had always been there for her more than the rest of the guys have other than Vic.

Lydia rolled out of bed and quietly left the room, sneaking over to the bathroom.

She sat on the cold tile floors and opened the cabinet under the sink.

Carefully, she pulled out a razor, laying it on the ground.

Now she just had to remove the blades, which is easier than you would think.

With force, she pulled off one of the ends of the razor and carefully pulled out the small blades.

Sure, they were harder to harm yourself with, but it still worked.

It started as just small incisions on her thighs, but they slowly got deeper and deeper.

Blood slowly dripped down her legs, pooling on the tile beneath her.

She laid down, on the tile, her shorts now getting soaked with blood.

"I'll clean up later." She mumbled, her breathing becoming slower.

She didn't cut deep enough to kill her instantly, but if she laid there for too long, eventually she'll die laying in a puddle of her own blood, her clothes soaked.