Bulletproof:
There is no better hell than high school.
A time to live or die.
A time to make or break your future.
For Maria she had to survive same went for Sophia, Raymond and Jackson. But for Anya, Max, Noah living was the last thing they wanted...
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"One cut, two cut, three cut, four. Cry a little then cut some more." Max sang softly to himself, like a violinists he drug the razor back and forth over his skin that acted as the violin.
"Darkness comes and darkness goes, cut for the life of you and don't let go" he hummed, sang and mumbled working on what he would call his masterpiece.
"Perfect" Max smiled to himself, he silently grabbed a white rang and held it over his wounds tightly. He was so glad that he was done but no matter how much Max wanted to stop, he couldn't.
Cutting made him happy. Cutting made him sane. It took away the demons hiding within his brain. It replaced them with pain.
Humming, Max took out a sterile rag and held it tightly to his freshly made wounds. He then grabbed peroxide, gauze and disinfectant cream and slathered it on his cuts before wrapped it up. When Max was done, he took a long sleeve dark blue shirt out and pulled it over his head. Max then grabbed some blue jeans and his backpack before he headed out the door and to school.
It didn't take him but twenty minutes before he reached his school and was able to fight the crowd of people to get to his locker. Max hesitantly and slowly reached up to unlock his lock, every move he made or pressure he put on his wrist would only make his cuts bleed more. It was coming to the point where Max already had to change his bandages.
He sighed. Maybe he went a little to far this time, but it just felt so good.
The feel of a cold blade held up against burning hot skin, the pinch it caused when the blade dug into his flesh, the familiar trickle of blood streaming down his arm and dripping onto the floor. Max almost moaned in relief, just thinking about it urged him to cut some more but he had already done enough damage and knew his arms needed to rest. They were losing to much blood and his teachers have already began to notice the tremble in his hands when he wrote.
His handwriting use to be elegant and beautiful but now it had become a sloppy mess. It looks like a child had done it and that was all because of the amount of blood he was using.
"Nerd" chuckled a jock walking by. Max simply brushed off the insult and continued to grab heavy books out of his locker. Words didn't matter to him, they never had, what really mattered to him was physical actions.
His mother's harsh pushes and his fathers fist, it wasn't meant to be directed towards him and he knew that but he always interfered and it got him hurt. "Hey Maximus" called out Jamie, Max turned at the sound of Jamie's voice and blushed.
She waved at him, a smile planted on her face and books held in front of her slightly round chest. He waved back "morning" Max replied as he shut his locker door. "How was your weekend?" Max asked, heading her way. "Ehh so-so, how about yours?" the smile was wiped off of Max's face.
