The secrets I keep

Escape

TW: self harm

*No one*

The youngest looks up, his eyes losing hope. "It doesn't matter... you'll all leave and I'll still be here" he winces as his bleeding wrist grazes his knee. "Just leave me alone. Please" he mumbles into his knees.

The gang look at one another, some in sympathy and the others in hidden anger -they wanted to know where their friend has gone. What happened to the Vanoss who never gave up? The vanoss that always wore a smile that could brighten up the darkest of rooms?

"I'm sorry but we cant do that, you lost alot of blood yesterday and you'll probably collapse if you leave the house in this temperature." Jon answers

"If you would like, we can leave you alone for a while but we will check on you every hour or so" Brock suggests

Evan sighs in defeat and stands up, shoving his hands in his pockets "Fine."

--

The guys had left Evan in the living room, the door fully shut as the Canadian sat on the sofa with a pillow to his chest. All Evan could think about was punishing himself, hurting himself for putting his friends through all of this. He wished to himself that Wayne never invited them, that they forgot about VanossGaming altogether and went on with their own lives.

His eyes scanned the coffee table infront of his chocolate brown eyes, catching a pencil sharpener next to Wayne's work book, a freshly sharpened pencil neatly beside it.

He wanted to escape from all of this drama for atleast few moments, he wanted to escape the numbness that clawed at his throat and more importantly he wanted to punish himself. He stared wonderingly at the sharpener - remembering that he had read about self harm a while ago since he was wondering what it was like.

Vanoss felt the urge eating at him, controlling his desires as his arm reached out and picked the sharpener up, admiring how such a small thing can cause so much pain to an individual. His fingers grazed the blade, wiping any access pencil shavings he could see.

"Shit!" He breathed, jerking his hand back and biting his lip. Evan looked down at his hand and saw a fresh cut on his index finger. He took deep breathes and dropped the dangerous tool, clutching onto the pillow on his lap. His head lowered, trying to catch his unsteady breath.

"I'm so sorry.." he whispered apologetically, the stress and adrenaline lunging at him to carry on. The pain had left as soon as it came and he wanted, no needed more.

The red clad Male unconsciously gripped the sharpener, using his nail to unscrew the one thing that was keeping him from his release. Without reason, he yanked the blade across his wrist, yelping in pain and dropping the weapon once again, making an obnoxious clank as it hit the table.

"Evan you alright in there?" I heard Luke question

"Mhm! Yep!" The other forced through clenched teeth, his eyes scrunching shut as hard as they possibly could "I'm okay!" He confirmed, hearing someones footsteps becoming more distant.

The pain in his wrist began fading, like there was nothing there in the first place. Beads of blood painted the slice, taunting him, telling him to do it again..

Of course it hurt like a bitch, but when Evan Fong was done, he felt relief. Like any guilt he was feeling drifted away.

He bent over and picked up the red-rimmed blade, his eyes clouding over in desperation for the calming feeling once again. Vanoss sliced across his wrist again, and again, and again... and again. His lips curving into a painful grin - continuing every slash, slit and cut until there was little to no room left.

When he finished, he tearfully shook at his artwork, blood painting every inch of his arm up to his elbow, his heart ached at what he had done. Evan muffled his crying as he looked for something to cover him up, his arm being cradled by the other.

"Cmon" he gritted "Aha!" He celebrated, heading toward the closet where his black logo hoodie was neatly hung up.

*Evan*

"Evan it's time for a check in"

'Brian?!' I panicked in my mind, snatching the hoodie from its hanger and scrambling to pull it on. "Y-yeah?"

The Irish entered the room ,closing it behind him and taking a seat on the arm of a chair. "How you feeling?" He finished

"I-Im doing better then ever-"  I mustered "just a little-" I swayed, my legs buckling beneath me as I collapsed "tired.."

"Shit man, we told you not to force yourself, here" Brian made his way over to me, reaching out for my left arm before firmly gripping it in an attempt to pull me up.

"FUCK!" I hissed as his grip squeezed the fresh cuts. He let go of me in suprise as I hit the drawer behind me.

"Evan you- youre bleeding!-" He frantically gestures to my hand that now has two crimson lines of blood wrapping around my fingers, soaking into my hoodie sleeve - he reached out for me again.

Instead I jumped up and pushed past him, swinging open the heavy, wooden door and rushing toward the front door. I fiddled around with the lock as my name was being called from behind me.
I payed no mind to them as I opened the door, stepped out and slammed it behind me, running as fast as I could away from the house - my arm screaming at me to stop.

"Evan stop!" An Irish accent yelled, footsteps following behind.

Brian.

Ignoring his calls, I carried on booking it, swiftly turning a corner and throwing myself behind a snow-covered skip in an attempt to get him to lose my trail. Pushing myself in the corner as far as I could.

It seemed to work as a flash of black and red ran straight past me, snow flicking under his hurried steps. He stopped and frantically looked around him.
"Evan!" He called, his hands cupping his mouth, white air following his breath infront of him.
A few minutes passed as he stopped calling for me and he began walking back to my house, a look of worry plastered upon his face, mumbling profanities while kicking the snow in anger.

Once I knew he was gone for sure, I uncurled from my position and shakily stood up, cradling my injured-bloody arm in the other and began making my way down the street avoiding the stares from passerbys.

"What now.." I didnt think this far ahead. I just panicked and didnt want him to see what I'd done so I ran. I'm a complete and utter moron. I'm out here in freezing temperatures, I'm weak from blood loss and I have no idea what to do...

"This could do for now" I pondered, coming upon a park with bench under a shelter. I have no other choice so i have to take it. The ground beneath me crunched as I paced over to the bench, letting myself collapse onto it from exhaustion, fighting with my heavy eyes to sleep. I need to stay awake... shit.
'Why did I run? I'm fucked either way. If they find me then it's more stress for them and if I stayed they would of seen my arm which would make even MORE stress.Maybe I should go back.. '

'Wait-' My body jerked upward in alarm.

I left them with Wayne.