SaiOuma Stories

Suicidal x Suicidal

[As said in title. There is suicidal things. Self harm is major, and there's attempted suicide. Proceed with caution if need be.  This is the longest one shot I've ever made XD over 4000 words, woohoo. Go me.]

It... was never the easiest thing, to deal with.

There were sudden urges. Sudden. It came out of the blue to pull and yank on the strings of high temptation.

At the beginning, it was easy to ignore. But as time progressed on... it became unbearably painful not to.

His parents never gave him the time and day. Then being Popular idols, they had to be kept in the best of conditions. Not raising a child. He was sure he was thee definition of unplanned. He could tell, from an age where he could grasp the concept of it, that his parents didn't really like him.

The only baby pictures he had of himself was dated back to those innocent years. Pictures where he was in his parents' arms while dozens of cameras and poparatzi flashed horribly bright lights at them. Yet, they still sometimes go back to have him live with them. There was a suspicion going around, that the actor and screenwriter ditched their child. So for their popularity sake, they announce a charming visit to their son. Acting so happy. If only it wasn't fake.

He had been... fourteen, when he first tried. The headaches and migraines were spilling his sanity. The repetition of school added to the constant cycle of not changing. The stress he feels trying to keep up with expectations... it all came crashing down on him one night and he had enough. He's heard that it relieves something... from dozens of stories online, they always say it felt good. Maybe it would for him.

He was taking a shower, when the thought came to take place. He reached to grab that object. He knew it was sharp. That was the point. He brushed it against his soft skin. Cutting it easily. Though, it was only the first layer, so no blood was spilt. The water in the shower would wash it away anyway. It was only a slight pinch. Like a paper cut. He did it again, this time, deeper. He thought he had a good excuse. It was just a paper cut.

Not that anyone would ask.

"Shuichi, you should be healthy for once. You're awfully skinny." His father's voice interrupted his thoughts. "...and could you be a little less... depressed looking?" His mother said. "I'm getting calls from the schools counselor saying you might need a little upbringing. If she's talking about a therapist, I think it's out of the question. My son isn't mentally retarded, if you know what I mean?" Depressed. Depression, is what she means. "S-Sorry... I'll try."

"Try a little harder."

He was. He was trying not to. But when he was staring too long at the kitchen knives, he couldn't help it. He wouldn't do it on a repulse. It was his thoughts that come and go.

It was when he was sixteen he went a little too far. At least, to him.

One of his friends. Had left him for another group and stopped hanging out with him. He assumed he did something wrong. It was his fault. It had to be. It always was. He didn't know how to deal with it. He was told not to. Don't cry. Don't cry. Just don't cry.

His headache pounded, and for the second time that day he grabbed the pill bottle and popped another two. It's just for migraines. He told himself. Though, it wasn't the only pain he wishes it would cure. He was in his room, when felt it crash down on him again. He screamed into his pillow, and sobbed as if he watched his family die. He was told he was dramatic. So he assumed he was overreacting. He wanted to stop, but the pain in his chest twisted at his lungs. Breathing was no longer an easy feat. He cried, and continued to cry. He wanted to stop.

He so desperately wanted to stop.

His parents weren't home. They wouldn't be for the next couple of days. He grabbed a small knife. And walked into the bathroom. If pain was the only thing that shut him up, then so be it. He pressed the tip into his arm, he seethed at the sudden pain, but kept going. He raked it across his arm and blood did spill. He was glad he was over the sink. It dripped fast, he turned on the faucet. And wrinsted it a couple times. He could feel himself calming down, but he couldn't be done, he deserved more. So he did it again, and again.