WARNING! DEPRESSIVE THOUGHTS AND A SUICIDE ATTEMPT. OVERALL A VERY TRIGGERING CHAPTER. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
You remember what they used to say to you when you grew up? That sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me, whoever came up with that can suck it. You always thought they were wrong, they were just idiots up in a small office trying to create bumper stickers, so tell me, why is it the only things that actually hurt are the words.
When you were younger, you were constantly bullied, yah the sticks and stones hurt, but the scars were left by the words. The pain started to tear you apart from the inside, each word on repeat in your head.
Ugly.
Fat.
Whore.
Bitch.
Telling those around you is like personally committed yourself to the loony bin, signing the paper and walking in to say, hey go ahead tell me what I already know, that I'm depressed. The worst feeling was hiding everything from your best friend Peter, he told you almost everything, you had craved to tell him you were breaking. That the world seemed to crumble around you, nothing was okay, that you needed help.
In your mind, you always told yourself, you don't deserve the help, and you deserve the depression handed to you. So, in the pain you hand inside, you resorted to putting it on the outside, to feel almost anything but what you were feeling on the inside. Scars marked up your body, hidden in places only you could see them, but you felt whole with them there.
When scars would fade you felt empty, you felt like you weren't you, that you needed to make new ones to make up for the pain or lack thereof. Peter had started to suspect something, but he never said anything, thinking you were just switching up style.
In all truth, you added more and more clothes to hide the scars gaping on your arms, you may have been proud of them, but society, nor Peter, needed to know that.
You stopped to look in the mirror, looking at yourself, you had hair that looked like a straight mess, and your eyes had deep under bags. Your clothes were large and hanging due to the lack of eating, you turned back around, deciding if it was to be your last day, you wanted to make everyone smile.
Once you changed, you looked in the mirror once more, you wore a white sundress that was tight at the waist but flared at the hips. There were flowers spread all over the dress, each flower decorated with intricate details, it was beautiful, it didn't look like you, but then again that's what you were going for.
Slipping on your light pink heels, and grabbing your backpack, you started to walk down the usual road, the road that was inevitably busy, cars honking and people screaming at each other. You noticed that people kept staring at you, locking their eyes on you until you kept walking, you smiled at all of them, and they smiled back.
The school wasn't very close, it was around 10 blocks away, you didn't really have time to walk but you wanted to burn off a few calories, so walking you went. You dug through your large baby blue backpack, pulling out a pair of black headphones, you placed them in ear and started to listen to your favorite music.
For some unknown reason, you felt your body ache, your bones crying out to stop moving, but you kept moving, ignoring the consistent howls of your bones. "Hey, Y/N, thought you would've drove today, there is a storm roaring in."
You jumped when the voice came out of nowhere, but you looked up to see Peter calling out to you from his window. A brown curly mop sat on Peter's head, most of his hair out of place or a mess, he wore a tight white shirt with something about chemistry placed on it. "Wait up! I'm headed down!"
