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Everyday is the same in treatment. Same schedule each day. I'm surprised I don't get bored. Maybe I don't because each day is such a challenge here.

I've been putting myself out there during groups and individual therapy more often than not. Maybe it's because of the afternoon Michael asked me to play on the Xbox with him. Maybe it's because the same night during dinner, we all had a very honest conversation. They told me that they've been avoiding any conversation related to what I'm struggling with right now in hopes that it would help. This doesn't seem to be the case. So their new approach is to be honest. They'll tell me when they think I'm falling. They'll tell me when they think I'm hiding something. They'll call me out on my bullshit.

The most helpful one, at least for me, is they'll be asking me how badly I want to cut. They're asking me on a scale of one to ten, how bad my urge to cut is.

They've already put it into action and saved me from being really stupid. I was thinking of cutting my arms, which is so stupid, so stupid! I have public appearances, I can't have scars on my arms!

It was after dinner on the fourth night of partial. As much as I wanted to go to my room, I went straight to the couch in the living room. Isolation doesn't help, and if I had gone to my room, I would have cut. Ashton was doing the dishes, and I could see Calum and Michael talking over who would go and talk to me. It ended up being Calum.

~

"Hey man, you okay?" he asks me with a worried expression.

A harsh laugh escapes me. "Am I ever?"

His face goes from worried to strict. "Yes, you are okay. Maybe not night now, maybe not even most of the time, but you are okay."

I start playing with the strings from his ripped jeans, wanting something to do. "Just feels like I'll never escape this," I say quietly.

"Escape what?" he asks me.

"Escape these thoughts that keep plaguing my mind," I tell him.

He nods and stays quiet for a little, before asking, "One to ten?"

I sigh loudly, knowing he isn't going to like the answer.

"Nine."

"Luke, what's going on up here?" he asks sadly, tapping on my head.

"I really want to cut. So fucking badly. I can feel the food sitting in my stomach and it's uncomfortable. I want to be empty."

"You're saying all these wants, but you've gotta focus on what you need," he lets me know softly.

"It would be so much easier if I gave into a relapse," I think out loud. I can see alarms going off in Calum's head once I see this.

"You'd be dead," he states flatly.

I chuckle and say, "Like I said, it'd be easier." Tears start to well up in my eyes at my own words. Is that really what I want? To be dead? I still want to live my life, but it feels impossible with all that's going on.

Maybe I would be better off dead.

Throughout my short thought process, Calum has called over the two other boys. They're making their way over to sit with us.

"Luke's having a hard time tonight," Calum states briefly. Ashton is sitting on the floor in front of the couch I'm laying on. He grabs my hand. The simple touch brings even more tears to my eyes and I have to squeeze them to prevent them from spilling over.

"Do you want to talk through it?" Michael asks me. I shrug, not knowing what I want to do.

"What are you feeling?" Ashton asks softly, love laced in his words even now. Of course, all their words are laced in love, but his are different.

"Worthless, stupid, want to cut, want to die," I say simply, taking my other hand and wiping a tear away from my eye.

"You're feeling suicidal?" Ashton asks, to which I nod my head. "One to ten for that?"

The words spill out of my mouth before I can even think about them. "Nine for cutting, nine for dying."

It's funny really, seeing all the alarmed looks on their face take place at the same time. Funny in a very, very sad way.

"You don't have a plan or anything, do you?" Calum asks.

"No plan, but I keep thinking about cutting myself until I bleed to death. Hit an artery or something maybe."

"That sure as hell sounds like a plan to me," Michael says darkly. I wipe another tear away.

"Do we need to take you to the emergency room?" Ashton asks, worry flooding his eyes.

I shake my head, the tears spilling out as I think about what I'm about to say. "No, I just need you guys to be here with me tonight. Please."

They all look at each other, talking silently through their eyes, trying to figure out a best plan of action.

"What would you have cut with?" Ashton asks aloud.

I sigh, worried about what they'll say to me. "I still have two blades from when I went to the emergency room that one night."

"You've had them the whole time?" Calum says, sounding defeated as he places a hand on his face.

"But I haven't used them," I let them know, hoping that makes it any better.

I feel a hand be placed on my leg, then hear Michael say, "Thank you for not using them."

"Where are they?" Calum asks, and I let him know of their hiding places. He's up in a flash to retrieve them from my room.

"We're really proud of you for telling us all of this," Ashton tells me.

"It's not easy, but it's getting easier the more I do it," I say, wiping another tear away.

Calum comes back but makes his way into the kitchen. "What are you doing?" Michael asks.

I hear rummaging. "If he's not going to the psych ward after what he told us tonight, then I'm gonna make it impossible for him to cut himself." He's holding a bucket from one of the closets, and he's filling it with the sharp knives in the house. Then he throws in the two blades from my room.

"Fair enough," I say out loud. Ashton squeezes my hand. Calum disappears again, but is back quickly. He's without the bucket now.

"It's locked away," he says simply. I nod my head.

"Thanks for looking out for me you guys," I say quietly.

"We love you Luke, we'd do anything for you," Calum says, softer in his tone now. I smile at him.

"Is there anything else you want to talk about tonight?" Ashton prods.

I shake my head. "Can we watch a movie or something? I want to watch Frozen."

~

The rest of that night we watched Frozen. I woke up with a kink in my neck since I fell asleep on Ashton. We all fell asleep on the couches that night, none of us getting up to go to our beds.

In general, but especially that night, I'm very thankful for this rating system. It'll only work if I'm honest, but I'm trying really hard to be as honest as possible.

Recovery relies on honesty. Relapse relies on lies.

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