The Man Of My Nightmares (Septiplier) **DISCONTINUED**

Silence

We've been back in America for a couple days now and tomorrow I go back to school. I dread that day so much. I'll be forced to hang out with Lily until Mark is out of the hospital, but even then I may be left out. What's the point in wanting him if he's too blind to see it? Which is why I'm now sat on the edge of my bed crying. Which is why I'm pressing my fingers down as hard as I can bear and why I now have a new record for my deepest cut. This is going to make a nasty scar, good thing it's on my leg and not my arm. This went on for about an hour, stopping every now and then to wipe the blood and tears from rolling off my legs and staining my carpet. The rush of the blood escaping me and the pain of the blade slicing my skin was intoxicating. Every touch, every bead. I stopped when my skin started to drain of all colour. I quietly tiptoed into the bathroom to clean up. I wiped my legs down and brushed them with hydrogen peroxide before wrapping them in bandages. I felt faint from blood loss, but I don't care, I'm still alive.

***

Buzz buzz. I felt my phone vibrate under my pillow to wake me up. As soon as I tried to stand, I was thrown back onto the bed in agony. My legs throbbed. I finally managed to stand and get dressed. I shot out the door and ran to school. When I got there Lily greeted me with her newly-dyed electric blue hair and her delicate voice that resembled that of a kitten. I don't know what we talked about. I don't know anything anymore. The only thing I know is that somewhere along the line she asked where Mark was and I told her what happened. I hope Mark sees how appreciated he is. I want him to be okay. But then again, that would make me a hypocrite. We soon reached the most deafening silence accompanied by empty sounds of chatter. The silence was filled by my own thoughts. Why wasn't it me? Why am I such a little whiny bitch? Mark had a reason and I want to die because I don't like other people or my own body? How dumb is that? My thoughts began to speed up and overlap into pure noise. Lily just stood next to me staring at the floor. Doesn't she see the torment I'm in? Help. Me. Please.

BRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNGGG

Has it been half an hour already? Me and Lily parted ways quietly to class. My chest felt heavy and my legs were weak. I was dying and I'd only walked a couple feet. My eating disorder is starting to take its toll on me. By the time I got to English, my body ached and I was sweating bullets. I tried to wipe my face while the teacher took role. "Mark?" No answer. "Has anybody seen Mark today?"
"He's in hospital" I squeaked.
She continued down the list of names. She gave a review lesson since the break just ended.

BRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNGGG

Math. Something about circles that I couldn't cate less about. I was too busy worrying about Mark and rotting in my own flesh. You could tell I was. I took decent care of myself, did what was needed. I didn't have B.O., but despite brushing my teeth as best I could and putting on large amounts of deodorant, I reeked of death and there was no doubt about it. He gave us some sheets of graph paper and instead of graphing what was on the board, I drew what I think death would look like, or hell, or wherever I'm headed. The teacher came over and asked my work was doing. I covered my drawing and said "good." He told me to move my arm and took a look at it. "What is it?"
"Nothing"
"Come, would it be okay if I sent you to the counselor's office?"
"Fine." I replied bitterly. He made a quick phone call and instructed me on where to go. He told me to bring all my things with me.

"Hello Séan" the lady spoke as if we were buddies.
"Hi."
"I'm Mrs. Howard, the principal. So you're here because Mr. Hart is concerned about you. He said you draw some dark and gruesome things and that he noticed you cut yourself." Fuck
"Is this true?"
"Yea." I said coldly.
"May I see?"
"See what?" I glared at her.
"Either your drawings or your arms." Fuuuuuck what do I do?!
Silence.
I looked helplessly into her eyes as she said she wanted to see the drawings first. I pulled out the one from math, revealing rough outlines of people being slaughtered, falling from the sky, and a giant pentagram drawn from puddles of human blood.
"What is it?"
"Where I'm headed."
"Well I'm going to take you to Ms. Clark's office okay?" I felt my bandages rub against my cuts and open them slightly. I winced in pain as we walked.

"Hi!" Ms. Clark spoke in a cheery voice. We did the same number as I did with Mrs. Howard.
"When was the last time you cut yourself?" She did an exaggerated pouty face as soon as the sound of the hard C left her mouth. I waited.
Silence.
"Last night/this morning. I dunno." I said barely audible.
"Aw, where did you cut yourself?"
"My legs" She wrote that down.
"Have you been doing that whole anorexic thing too? Like making yourself not eat?"
"Yea..." I said, but I was certain my words were caught in the wind.
"What about that bulimic thing?"
"Mhmm." I grunted.
"How often do you throw up?"
"Maybe every other day?" I wasn't very sure of myself, I've lost all connection with time.
"Have you noticed any changes in like your hair or your skin? I know when people do that, they get dry skin and their hair starts to fall out." I said nothing.
"Okay, well I'm going to have to take you to the nurse because that's the procedure, so come with me." I dragged myself as best I could to keep up with her, but my legs burned.

The nurse asked to see my arms. I held the out with my sleeves rolled up and she carefully grabbed them as if she were holding something fragile. She poked at a particularly bad scar before asking to see my legs. I lowered my jeans to reveal the neatly wrapped white bandages I placed. She slowly unraveled them to find my still bleeding wounds gaping open. She told me I needed stitches, they were so deep and she called 911. As they took me away, Ms. Clark said she would call my mother.

As we drove, I thought to myself Why is this happening? They stitched me up and brought in a "behavioural specialist," whatever that means. I blacked out, but I managed to convince them that I was okay and they let me go home. Hospital bills are expensive and I immediately felt bad. I need Mark. Mum tried to talk to me, but I ignored her.

A/n: I'm not okay. I'm getting worse with each passing day. The sad part is, I don't know if I want to get better anymore. I'm giving up slowly and nothing can stop me. I don't know if this book will reach its ending that I planned, but I hope you still like it. Also, Lily do me a favor and not ask me about this one, I don't want to talk about it.