My Demons (A Septiplier Fanfic)

Control Freak-Part 9

A/N: MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR SELF-HARM!!!!! If you are in any way upset by, triggered by, or offended by Self-Harm, please DO NOT READ!!!
If you are struggling with Self-Harm, please know that you are NOT alone. You are loved and wanted. You are so important. If you want to, please do not hesitate to message me. I love you guys. <3
Also there's a lot of swearing.

Jack laid on his side, Mark's body pressed against his. Mark was snoring lightly, but the sound was drowned out by Jack's screaming thoughts. His arms burned, and his leg stung. All he could think about was that nightmare of Mark. His words bore through his mind over and over again, making Jack feel sick. Jack slowly moved his arm out in front of him. He carefully pulled his sleeve up, revealing his scars. Jack stared at them. No wonder Mark hated him so much... Jack moved in slow motion, gently taking the covers of of his body. He moved off of the bed slowly, glancing back at Mark to be sure he didn't wake him. Jack somehow managed to get out of bed without waking Mark. Jack quietly walked to the guest room where his stuff was. He stared at his bags dejectedly, feeling his arms burning more. He needed to.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jack walked to his backpack and opened a small section. He pulled out a pocket-tool and opened the screwdriver. He carefully made his way to the bathroom. He opened one of the bathroom drawers and looked around. When he couldn't find what he was looking for, he checked the other drawer, and then the shower. Finally, he saw it. Jack slowly reached out and grabbed what he needed, and retreated to the downstairs bathroom, where he wouldn't make as much noise right next to Mark's room. Jack shut the door slowly, and locked it. He turned on his phone's flashlight, but it was still too dark to see. He turned on the regular light in the bathroom. He looked down at the two things in his hand; the pocket-tool, and Mark's hand-held shaving razor. Jack examined the shaving razor. He carefully took it apart using the screwdriver. After around ten minutes, he got to the blades. He picked one up as tears welled in his eyes. He rolled up his sleeve, then hesitated. Mark would notice. He'd counted them. Jack looked himself over in the mirror, and swallowed. He carefully pulled off his shirt. He moved his hand up to his upper-left arm by his shoulder. Tears overflowing, he cut.

4...5...6...Jack looked at his arm in the mirror. His vision was blurred by tears, but he could see the red. Was that enough? Yes. His thought were a little more controlled now. His breathing had slowed along with his heart rate. Jack turned the sink water on low and grabbed some toilet paper. He tried to wipe off the blood gently, but it still hurt a lot. He hissed through his teeth as he continued cleaning the cuts. He got some toilet paper wet and wiped them again. The warm water stung, but also felt good. Jack glanced at his phone. 4:00 A.M. He had only been away from Mark for twelve minutes. But the cuts were still bleeding. He had to wait until they stopped. This took another few minutes, and Jack slowly put his long-sleeve shirt back on. He worked quickly to put the shaving razor back together. The cuts hurt a lot, but he tried to ignore it as he shut the light off and opened the door slowly. It creaked slightly, and Jack froze. He heard nothing. Jack kept moving. He tiptoed up the stairs and back into Mark's bathroom. He set the shaving razor back on the shelf he'd taken it from. Then, he tossed the pocket-tool into his bag, and walked slowly into Mark's room.

To his relief, Mark was still snoring away. Jack carefully laid down in the bed and pretended he was simply shifting to turn over. Mark moved as well, making Jack's heart skip. Mark turned over, so that now they were facing each other. Mark opened his eyes slowly, and Jack closed his, pretending to sleep. "Hey...Jack, what's wrong?" Mark asked groggily. Jack didn't move, but he felt something slide down his cheeks. He hadn't even realized he was still crying. "Jack?" Mark repeated. Jack was terrified. He felt Mark touch his shoulder-a little too close to his fresh cuts. Jack tensed, and opened his eyes. "What's wrong??" Mark asked, clearly very concerned. Jack was speechless. He shrugged. Mark moved down and kissed him. The gesture made Jack want to cry more out of guilt for cutting again.  He pulled away, stifling a sob. "What's wrong?" Mark asked again. Jack shook his head, moving closer to Mark. He buried his face in Mark's chest. Mark moved his arm around Jack's fragile body and rubbed circles on his back. "Shh, shh it's okay. Did you have another nightmare?" He cooed. Jack sniffled. "Y-Yeh." He lied. "I'm so sorry. But you're safe, okay? You're safe here with me. I won't let anything ever happen to you." Mark spoke calmly. Jack nodded into his shirt. But he didn't pull away. Mark took the hint and held him tighter. Jack's shoulders shook slightly as he started crying properly. "Jack, hey. It's okay. It's okay, come on. You're okay. You're okay Jack, I promise." Mark said, shifting so he could hold Jack more comfortably. "Do you wanna tell me about it?" He asked. Jack shook his head. Mark, though he was concerned, didn't push him to talk.