Lost and Useless, No More Bruises

A/N: It's finally done. I started this back on April 11th. This is currently the longest story I've ever written, with 6607 words. Some art was posted before, giving a little hint to the story. The cover's quality was ruined a little. Both the cover and the art were done by me. Every character mentioned in this story belongs to me, besides Jupiter Angel, who belongs to PhoenixAngel29. This story was loosely inspired by something that happened to me, that I am forever grateful for, and the message at the end is heavily inspired by it. The title is from the lyrics of a Marianas Trench song, called September.

The video in the media is an animation with a song that I listened to a lot in the making of this story. This animation hit me close to home, for it reminds me of some people who are like the Jon (the cat) in my life. I know the original Vocaloid song is dark and negative, but I love the way this person changed the meaning. It fueled my motivation for writing this story. Give it a watch, for the animator of it, MelloRange, did an amazing job!

Warning, this story includes mention of blood, suicide, and self-harm.

I thank PhoenixAngel29 for being like my editor throughout the time I was writing this, and for helping me with some ideas.

Well, I think I've blabbered enough, so let's get on with the story. Thank you for reading!

The apartment was dark, no lights on at all. Files and papers were scattered all over the floor. An orange container of pills was spilled out on the table. The air was humid and heavy.

In the bedroom, Skye laid on the bed, curled up on herself. She couldn't move. Her eyes stared off into nothingness, and a very strong tension headache made her feel worse. She still wore her suit, but the overcoat was thrown lazily on the floor, leaving her white undershirt. A few blades were tossed onto the nightstand, the drawer where she kept all of them left open.

Skye was off her medication, and once again, it was her own fault. She felt like she didn't deserve happiness, and to add to it all, it was the day Clavis died. A year had passed. And besides, the new medication she was on made her feel sick. It was just side effects, she knew, but she wished she could feel better emotionally without feeling sick physically. Her old medication prescription was changed because the old one stopped working for her. Skye had gotten to one of her lowest points, and the pills for depression didn't help her.

The woman had absolutely no appetite or will to get up and clean. Her head was more of a mess than she had left her apartment.

The emotions she felt couldn't be expressed. She wasn't very sad, she wasn't gloomy, she wasn't angry... She was just depressed, with no way to explain it. So depressed that she felt hopeless, worthless and loneliness at their strongest.

Skye didn't even bother calling the offices to say she wouldn't be there. She knew that Ryan knew what to do, and that he was well aware that she had her... spells. She didn't feel like calling, either, for whoever picked up would question her to the end of time. She also didn't want to speak. She knew she would sound horrible.

Ryan would be worried when she got back to work, and she would feel bad, but at the moment she just couldn't find it in her to care. There wasn't enough emotion in her to express.

In the midst of the foggy thoughts, she remembered: There was a trial tomorrow. Skye was sure she wouldn't have enough motivation or energy to take her pills and fight the nausea, AND have to deal with a trial. Just getting out of bed would be a challenge.

Skye thought, maybe if she was lucky enough, she could get hit by a speeding car and never wake up.

"Then, the world would be a better place." She muttered to herself, her voice pathetic in her ears.