Life Is Short But Death Is Certain

4. Don't Even Try To Save Me

It was late at night. Charlie was still up. Johnny had treated his wounds and gotten them to stop bleeding, at least temporarily.

The light shining from the crack under his door told him he wasn't alone. He could actually hear Johnny's voice. Who was he talking to? That other voice... Danny? Charlie pressed his ear up against the door to hear them.

"Oh, don't worry about it..."

"Why the fuck is there blood on the couch? I can't not worry about it!" he heard Danny say.

"You don't need to know, okay!" Johnny said with a frustrated tone.

"Johnny. Is something going on?" Danny asked.

Silence.

Was Johnny going to tell? Charlie knew damn well where that blood came from.

"Danny... I can trust you, right?"

"Of course you can. What's going on?"

"Charlie. Has he been acting weird lately?" Johnny asked.

"Obviously, what do you mean? He barely eats or leaves his room." Of course Danny had noticed. It was obvious.

"Well... that's Charlie's blood. From his arm."

"He's... he's been... cutting?" Danny sounded like he couldn't believe his ears.

"Don't be a bitch to him about it, okay? I made him show his arms to me and the cuts started bleeding... they're like, deep." Johnny said.

"Is he okay?"

"I hope. I tried to tell him we should go get him stitches but he refused."

"Johnny, you can't let him get away with it! If they're too deep, he needs stitches!"

"I know. He agreed to go to the doctor with me tomorrow. I hope... I hope they realize he did them by himself and get him some help. You know, therapy or something."

Charlie could hear that Johnny was holding back tears. But he was just mad at him. Telling Danny about his personal issues. Besides, he didn't want any help anyway. Johnny could shut the fuck up and leave him alone, there was no way he was going anywhere.