"Where are you always at? You're never around anymore and you always makes up excuses as to why you can't hang out with me." He was biting his nails and pacing back and forth, two habits he'd grown accustomed to.
"I-I can't tell you, I'm sorry," Nash was on the verge of tears, he hated letting people down and being yelled at. He looked up at the clock and ceased his pacing. "I have to go, Cameron. I'll see you later." Nash started for the door but was stopped by Cameron grabbing onto his wrist. "Nash, just tell me where you're going." Cameron demands.
Nash begins to freak out. Anxiety and panic are mixing together and boiling over, causing Nash to begin a meltdown. Tears are falling rapidly down his face and he begins screaming. He falls to the ground and tries yanking his wrist from Cameron's hand but fails. Cameron gets on the ground, panicking, "Nash what's wrong?!" Cameron is frantic at the sight in front of him and drops Nash's wrist. Nash see's an opportunity and takes it, he gets up and bolts. He runs for his house and gets there in under ten minutes. He runs into the house and finds his parents impatiently standing in the front room.
Nash gets out of the car and makes his way into the building he dreads. He walks into the room of sadness and grabs a chair to bring it to the circle of with regret filled faces. Marcus stands and claps his hands, smiling at the group around him. "Okay, now that we're all here, who wants to go first?" A very scrawny looking boy with deep bags under his eyes raises his hand. "Great! Tell us your name, age, and why you're here."
"I'm Caleb, fifteen, and I have anorexia." Everyone greets him in the same monotone voice. "As a little kid I was pretty fat. I.. I always got made fun of, constantly was being picked on for my weight.." They go around the whole group, everyone telling their sad stories of how and why they're classified as fucked up. "We're here for you," Finally they land on Nash. He looks around the group nervously before taking a deep breath.
"I'm Nash." Everyone says hi, Nash refrains from rolling his eyes. "I'm eighteen, and I have severe depression." Nash starts. "It all started about three years ago when my little brother died in a car crash.." Nash closes his eyes tightly. "God, I've told this story countless times and it's still so hard to tell," Nash states, wiping a tear from his eye.
TRIGGER WARNING
"Some things just never get easier to talk about." Marcus mentions. Nash nods his head slowly before taking in a breath of air. "Anyways. My brother and I were super close, he was my best friend. After he died, I was crushed. Fell into a deep depression, Last year it got really bad. I was extremely stressed out and I had no way to release. I.. I started cutting myself. I didn't know what to do. I cut so much, it became addicting. It didn't necessarily take away the pain, but it was the only kind of outlet I had.
"Shortly after I began, I made the mistake of going to school in a t-shirt. My friend discovered my cuts and he was disgusted. He began telling other people in school and since I was in a small school, word got around quickly. Everyone left me. I h-had no one and at the same time, my parents were yelling at me for how I never did anything. I was always alone in my room and they were fed up with me being so sad and anti-social all the time. I got so overwhelmed and one night I hit my all time low. C-Cutting wasn't enough that night.
"I went out to my garage and grabbed my dogs choke collar, the one that tightens when the dog pulls on it. I brought it back to my room and-d I sat down at my desk and began writing a letter. A letter to my parents, telling them I wasn't sorry for leaving, but sorry for not being good enough for them. Explaining everything that was going on. Then, I stood up on a chair and found something sturdy. And, well, you know what comes next.
"Obviously i was unsuccessful. A cousin of mine found me when I only had a little bit longer to live. He took me down and took me to the hospital. I wish I would've died right then and there, but he had to fucking save me." Nash wipes his tears angrily. "Anyways, that's why I'm in this predicament. Can I go home now?"
Nash arrives back at home and when he gets there, he's surprised to see Cameron sitting there. Nash rolls his eyes and grabs Cameron's hand. He brings Cameron to his bedroom and sits him down after slamming the door shut. "You.. You really wanna know where I'm always at?" Nash's anger recedes and nervousness takes its place. Cameron is currently his only friend and he's worried that he'll leave him like everyone else has.
Nash looks nervous and that honestly scares Cameron. In the short time he's known Nash, he's never been a nervous wreck like this. "Before I tell you that, I have to tell you something else," Nash is once again pacing back and forth while biting his nails. "Y-You can tell me anything, Nash." Cameron is worried. Worried that something seriously bad has happened.
"I'm an artist," Nash breaths out. Cameron's head tilts when he hears this. He wonders why Nash was nervous about telling him he's an artist. "Since when? Do you draw or paint?" Cameron is curious with Nash's newly found love. "I draw," Nash says hesitantly. "With silver, and it comes out red," Cameron is even further confused. "How does that even happen?"
"It's hard to explain.." Nash trails off, hesitant about telling Cameron his secret. "Well it certainly sounds cool," Cameron smiles at Nash. "It really isn't." Nash stops pacing but instead of looking at Cameron, he stares at the wall in front of him. "Well.. You should show me your artwork sometime." Cameron is enthusiastic with his reply, hoping to make Nash more comfortable.
"I think that would be a bad idea," Nash states, continuing to stare at the wall. "What? Why would it be a bad idea?" Nash shakes his head. "Please, Nash?" Nash glances at Cameron before his eyes fall to the ground. "Promise not to tell anyone." Cameron nods his head rapidly, "I promise." Nash moves closer. "No one Cameron. I mean it." Cameron throw his hands up in defense. "I mean it too."
Nash sits on the desk chair in front of Cameron and stares down at his left arm. "Are you gonna show me..?" Nash wipes a small tear from his eye and reaches for his sleeve. He pulls it up and shows it to Cameron. Cameron holds his arm delicately and doesn't wipe his tears away as he looks at Nash's arm. Cameron gently runs his fingers over the marks that spell out the words HELP ME.
