Lié(s)-Septiplier

{9}

Warning: some things in this chapter may trigger some intense thoughts. I'm sorry I didn't realize how vivid I had made some things. Just please read with caution.

Mark

Brought his feet up onto the couch, hugging his knees to his chest. Staring blankly at the walls around him, he tried to force his mind to concentrate, but simply couldn't.

He didn't know why he was there or how he got there, but none of that mattered right now. He was alone, and that's all that he needed to know.

Sighing heavily, Mark rested his face in between his knees and closed his eyes. He felt completely numb, like there was nothing to feel. He didn't want to feel, because everything he was able feel before, hurt.

He felt the bandages before he actually saw them, coiled around his arms like armor, protecting Mark from himself. They were white and tightly bound to both of his arms, leading him to believe that the scratching hadn't stopped. In fact, it must've gotten worse, as he trailed two fingers atop one arm, pain began to stream up and across his arms.

They must've been bad, and that didn't worry Mark at all.

He was feeling pain, but this wasn't pain inflicted on him by anyone else. This was his own kind of pain, a personal pain that he created naturally. He didn't even make himself do it, his body was harming itself.

Maybe his body was ripping away at him, trying to kill Mark from the inside out. Maybe the scratches were only mere warning of the rest of the pain that will come if Mark doesn't just do it himself. Just leave, his body seemed to be screaming and Mark had an ear for listening.

Delicately, he wrapped his arms around his legs again, leaning against the couch. He didn't want to leave this spot, it wasn't comfortable or happy, it was lonely and that's how Mark felt. Alone, and he didn't care to be accompanied.

He just wanted to stay by himself, sulking about nothing and everything all at the same time. He wanted to cry and scream and now his fingers felt like they were missed somewhere. They tingled and Mark knew why.

Slowly, he began to unwrap one arm, wincing at the blood stained on the inside of the bandaging. The scars we're no longer bleeding, but red and puffy from the irritation Mark caused. This probably was a dumb idea, the arm still hurt like hell, the scars searing when he traced them lightly. Scratching open wounds was never smart.

This was going to hurt.

"I'm sorry," Mark whimpered, tears brimming his eyes. He tried blinking Them away but more arose, as if he had to cry. "I'm sorry, Sean. I'm not worth it," He stopped tracing the scars and instead took a sharp breath through his teeth before digging his nails into his skin.

Hot, searing pain shot up Mark's arm and he cried out a bit, but refused to move his hand. He let the pain burn through its high before lifting his hand up a bit to scrap down at his arm again, biting his lip harshly as the pain caused tears to spill from his eyes.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry," Mark cried harder, screwing his eyes shut as he continued to scar his arm up even more than before. "I'm so sorry, Jack, forgive me I'm sorry-"

"Mark!"

"Jack?" Mark stopped, opening his eyes and blinking harshly as they adjusted to the dim lighting once more.