I leaned up against the bathroom door and took a deep breath.

You can do this. You did it before and it helped so it’ll help again. They don’t understand. Don’t worry, just do what you need to do to feel better.

I glanced around for a moment in panic because I wasn’t sure there was a …

‘Ah,’ I smiled as my eyes came upon the small white box sitting amongst the other toiletries. I grabbed it, took out the razor and expertly extracted the blade from the handle. I threw the handle aside and took a seat on the bathroom floor. I leaned my back up against the door and glanced up at the knob to make sure it was locked. I knew someone would come looking for me sometime soon.

The cold tiles threw a shiver up my spine as my legs rested against the floor. I put the small blade down for a second and began to examine my left wrist. I ran my fingers along the scars as my mind flashed back to that day and that time. The scars were always a constant reminder of the past pain I’d suffered but they were also a sign of the relief that came along with the pain.

I picked up the razor blade and held it in between my right finger tips. I wasn’t ambidextrous enough, nor did I have enough control with my left hand, to aim the razor at my right arm. I already knew this. So, I held it in my right and rolled my left sleeve all the way up.

I’m sorry I have to do this dad. I’m sorry Sheila but it’s for the best. It’ll help me and I know that’s what you want, right? I hurt too much to be helped any other way.

I slowly moved the razor to my left forearm, well above my other scars. I placed it vertically against my arm and carefully made small slicing motions. It wasn’t enough to cut at first, so I pressed harder. When the razor broke the surface of my skin, I winced but didn’t stop. A small slice, about an inch long now rested on my arm.

Damn it Scott. I hate that you hate me. I hate not knowing what’s in your mind. We were fine for so long but then it all changed. It changed when I admitted that I cut myself. I thought you could handle it but you can’t.

Delicate tears began to fall as I remembered how it felt to have Scott care about me. How much it helped to have just one person that gave a damn. And then, how much it hurt to lose that. Bright blood quickly filled my new cut and I watched as it began to fall onto the surrounding surface of my arm. I laid my arm down against my lap hoping to prevent the blood from staining anything.

This doesn’t hurt. You’re used to it. Who gives a fuck what anyone else thinks? They don’t understand anyway. I don’t belong in their world. I don’t fit in.

With the small razor still clutched in my right hand, I moved it towards the still bleeding cut. And, without hesitation, I cut again. The second was parallel and shorter than the first. The instant the razor broke my skin, a shiver ran up my spine. My tears continued to stream down my face although it wasn’t from the physical pain. It was from the internal heartache.

God Clint. What did I ever do to you?? It’s always been you hurting me and you have no idea how much I hate that. I wanted to be there for you. I wanted us to always stay close but you ruined it!! You hate me and I have no idea why!! But even before you hated me, I hated being your shadow.

‘Hated being your damn shadow,’ I muttered under my breath. The second cut began to bleed equally to the first and a small red splotch of blood formed on my shirt from where the life of me ran from my cuts. I didn’t care. I hardly even noticed.

But most of all, I hate myself. I hate hurting other people and I hate who I’ve become.

I wiped away a few tears and then stopped trying to hold back the cries. I brought the razor to my arm once again. I rested it on the surface of my skin next to the second cut.

It’s my fault. It’s all my fault that the tour is OVER!! Everyone hates me because of that but Scott will hate me the most. I’m sorry Scott, I know how much everything means to you. I’m just a road block.

I angrily moved the razor vertically back and forth once with excessive pressure. That was all it took.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! You don’t know how much I want to make things better but I can’t. I’m too deep in and there’s no going back. It hurts. Everything hurts.

My skin broke immediately from the pressure of the last cut. The anger of the slicing caused the cut to be extra long and extra deep. I dropped the razor on the floor and cringed in pain. Blood immediately began gushing from the third cut and I held my arm into my body in an attempt to slow the bleeding.

It’s okay. It’s only a bit of pain. It’s nothing. Nothing.

I looked down at my arm again and felt a wave of nausea pass over me. There was a lot of blood. A lot. My crying hadn’t stopped since the cutting started and it only intensified now. I wasn’t afraid of dying this time but the sight of so much blood made me woozy.

I took a few deep breaths and carefully tried to stand up. I stumbled and almost fell into the bath tub but caught myself by grabbing onto the wall. I flipped on the sink and began to wave my forearm under the water. It instantly turned bright red. I sniffled some more and glanced at my reflection. I looked like crap.

‘Shit,’ I mumbled as water continued to flow over my three cuts. It wasn’t showing any sign of turning clear. I finally gave up trying to stop the bleeding and covered my arm with a towel. There wasn’t much else. I sat myself down on the tiled floor again and rested my back against the door.

You made it.

I felt extremely relieved. I was still shedding tears but much more slowly now. I closed my eyes as my heart beat began to slow back to normal. I couldn’t even verbalize how the cutting helped, it just did. I took notice of the small blade still lying on the floor and quickly picked it up and threw it in the waste basket. I looked around to make sure there were no signs of blood anywhere. The only thing with blood on it was my shirt. I had to change it soon because it was making me cold.

I looked down at my left arm and I saw the red begin to seep through the towel. I recovered the cuts and waited. I didn’t want to move. For the first time in an extremely long time, I wasn’t harped with heartache. My tears dissipated completely and I relaxed. Then, suddenly, something startled me. Someone was knocking on the bathroom door.

‘Bob?’

Sheila. Damn it.

‘Are you all right honey?’ she asked. She sounded worried.

How did you get in the room? I locked the door.

I rolled my eyes because I realized Scott probably let her in. ‘Yeah,’ I replied softly. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Are you sure?’ she questioned with doubt. ‘I’ve been waiting a while for you to come out. We need to leave for the promo in a few minutes.’

‘I’m not going,’ I stated flatly. She didn’t reply for a moment.

‘Why not?’ she asked with a little bit of annoyance.

‘I don’t feel good,’ I lied.

‘Bob. Your brothers are going even though they are upset so I think that you should go too.’

No don’t. Don’t mention them. They’re only upset because of me and you know it.

‘I’m not going,’ I repeated strongly. I heard her sigh and walk away from the door. I knew that wouldn’t be the end of it. It was too easy.

‘Bob?’

Dad. Crap.

‘What?’ I replied with a hint of hostility.

‘Come out.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m sick,’ I fibbed. I knew I wasn’t being a very convincing liar.

‘You’re not sick,’ he argued.

‘Yes I am. You don’t know how I feel,’ I shot back angrily.

Silence for a moment. ‘Fine. I can’t make you come out but I want you to know that Sheila and I are very disappointed in you. The fans will be extremely disappointed that you are not there today.’

‘I know,’ I said softly.

‘Sheila will stay here with you. We’re not leaving you alone like you’d probably hoped. The rest of us are leaving for the promo.’

I heard him walk away and I let out a sigh of relief.