So Glad I Met You (DBH Connor x Lia)

Chapter 11 - No Malfunction Detected

Disclaimer: if you suffer from depression it is highly unrecommended for you to continue reading this story. You have been warned.

Puma's POV

When I opened my eyes, Connor was next to me, eyes shut closed. His LED was spinning a soft blue. Suddenly, the events of last night seemed to shoot through me.

Why the fuck did I tell him that? I panicked. Of course he's going to tell Dad. And I'm in deep trouble. He's not supposed to know. He can't. He simply can't.

I drew a shaky breath and got out of bed, standing in front of my closet, looking for clothes to wear to work today. I had to at least try to put on some clean clothes. I put on a dark blue and white horizontal striped shirt with a black leather jacket over it and skinny jeans. Looping through my leather belt, I grabbed my gun and put it in the gun pocket with a few other things and went downstairs. I fumbled with the fridge and hastily got out a chocolate bar which I munched on, and went back upstairs to the bathroom. Washing my face, I looked up at myself.

What a useless bitch. Do you think anyone can help you? A faraway voice echoed in my head with a laugh. I shook my head. I told myself I would stop, I looked down.

Your arms aren't decorated enough. Go get a knife.

I carefully looked up at myself again. My eyes stung as they brimmed with tears and slowly slid down my cheeks.

Go get a knife. I heard again.

No. I will not.

Go get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Go get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Go get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Go get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Go get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Go get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife. Get a knife.

The voice filled my head and overlapped itself as I slid into my legs into a criss-cross position and tucked them under me. I covered my face with my hands as I stopped holding back the tears.

I was doing so well, did talking to Connor break me again? I thought to myself desperately.

"Puma." I heard a knock on the other side of the door.

"Oh. Hey Connie." I said with a smile and got up, wiping my tears and throwing the tissue in the trash. I opened the door as I pulled on my "happy mask".

"Are you alright, Puma?" He asked.

"Huh? Yeah! Perfect! Let's go to the station. Are you ready for work? You've been waiting for quite a while for that to happen, right?" I gave a laugh and slipped down into the stairs before he could say anything.

"You need to eat, Puma." He stated.

"I already ate." I shook my head and pulled on my sneakers, heading for the door.

"What did you eat?"

"Some leftovers from last night." I made up a lie swiftly.

"And where is the plate, may I ask?" He raised his eyebrows.

"I-it uh-. Fine. I ate from the bowl and didn't finish it, so I put it back in the fridge. Now let's go."

"Puma, you and I both know you're lying. You need to eat." He said.