Chapter Twenty-Three

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Katsuki's POV:

I can't get better. I can't. I just can't handle this anymore. I have to do it. I have to cut. I just have to. It's too much. Everything is going too fast. I can't keep up. They expect me to already be so far ahead, but I still can't get past the self harm. I've tried. I tried to get past it. To avoid it, but I can't. It's the only thing that I'm used to.

I know I said that I thought that I was amazing, hell, I even thought that was true for a split second. Boy, was I a dumbass. I am a dumbass. Thinking I could just want to get better and stay that way. It's funny. How fucking hysterical that I believed that bullshit. I'm the biggest fucking dumbass who every fucking lived.

I put the blade down and grip my hair, pulling it harshly. I'm a fucking dumbass. I'm so stupid. Why am I so stupid? My hand burns. The one I punched the floor with last night. I put my hands on the counter and look up at my reflection. I'm not crying, I'm just mad. Mad at myself for letting myself believe that I could somehow, magically, get better. Mad at my stupidity.

I take the blade from the counter quickly. I mean, it's not like they're already not disappointed. Of course they are. I mean look at me. I'm the freak who cuts himself. And cries himself to sleep. And the one who tried to kill himself, not even a whole week ago. And it's not like I wasn't getting any help. I was taking meds, seeing a shrink, I had people there for me for the first time ever. I had the tools to make myself better. I have the tools to make myself better.

I pick up my sleeve and unwrap the gauze from my wrist. There are scars. Tons just overlapping each other. It's disgusting. I'm disgusting. There are scabs, but not many. The other cuts were already scarring. I look over at the doorknob, making sure it's locked before putting my arm over the sink and placing the cool blade to my skin. I'm a freak.

I press down and slide the blade across my wrist, feeling the sting as beads of blood start appearing. The first one wasn't very deep, so I make another one, right below it, pushing deeper. I feel the burning sensation as the blade in my skin. Blood from the first cut starts sliding down my wrist, onto the white sink. Blood just slides out of the second cut smoothly. It's not a lot, but satisfying to see, along with the familiar sting. Of course I would cut again, of course. I'm a fuck up. An attention seeker.

Kaminari and Todoroki had taken all but three of my blades. I hid one in a pair of socks that I never use. I hid the second in a pair of underwear I never use, and the third was in a tear in my suitcase.

I still don't feel like it's enough, so I make another one. And after that one, I make another one. Then another one. And then one more.

There's seven bleeding cuts on my arm and I watch the blood as it hits the sink. It's so familiar. It makes me feel relieved. Yeah, fucked up me thinks that cutting is relieving.

I woke up about an hour ago. It was still dark out, but I have no idea what time it actually was. IcyHot was still asleep. We danced and jumped around for about an hour last night before Kaminari said that he was getting tired and wanted to cuddle with Kirishima. Then me and Halfie just fell asleep while watching a movie. It was hard to sneak and untangle myself from his arms and legs. I made it to the restroom about half an hour ago. I had just stayed in the bed, looking up while contemplating what to do before coming in here. I was deciding whether to wake up Halfie and bother him like always or to just deal with this myself.

I turn on the faucet once the bleeding slows down. I put my wrist under the water, cleaning off the blood until the bleeding stops. Then I rinse away the blood on the sink. Thankfully, it doesn't stain. I turn off the faucet and carefully dry my wrist to put the gauze back on. I don't want the bleeding to start back up again before I get a chance to put on the gauze. I turn back around the the sink where I left the gauze and wrap my wrist securely. I wince at the pressure on the cuts. Then I unwrap my right hand, which Halfie wrapped because I punched the floor, and turn on the water. The water was cold when I put my wrist under it, so maybe it'll be nice on my fist.

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