He snapped out a deadly sharpened pocket knife and frantically put it in my hands. "Harley, cut them out of me- please, I trust you-"

"Oh, my..." My breath left my lips as I gazed at the deep, white scars on his stomach- and then glanced at the knife.

"Your scars." I whispered in realisation.

"They're going to kill me if you don't cut me open." He panted in cries.

I dropped the knife to the floor as I cluelessly stood to my feet, knowing I had to take action. I grasped his hand and quickly led him out of my room and to his own. I pushed him inside and let him linger there as I turned the door knob quickly as he stared at me in confusion. I pulled the handle from the door and instantly closed it behind me as I exited, leaving him in there by himself.

Just as I expected, he began brutally banging on the wood. "No, no, no! Don't leave me!"

I slid my back against it as I lowered myself to the ground breathlessly, and I jumped as he hit it again. "Don't do this to me." He cried in defeat.

"This isn't real," I reassured calmly. "You're staying in there until you wake up."

"Wake up from what?" He screamed. "This twisted figment of my imagination that I can't ever escape?"

"Yes, that's exactly what you need to wake up from!"

"This isn't my imagination," He grunted and kicked the panel of wood. "I'm going to die in here!"

"Why did you have to take acid?" I screamed back angrily. "What is there in your life that you need to escape?"

"I need to escape right now." He lowly demanded, and gave the door one last kick.

The bottom half snapped and his foot fell through. I screamed and frightfully jumped back as he created a large hole in the door, big enough to put his arm through.

But then he gave up. He must have kicked something out of anger, because something shattered. "I'm so fucked up, Harley."

I heard him lower down onto the floor as I curiously leaned back against the door. He was silent. But suddenly, his arm went through the broken door that he kicked, his rigid hand raising slightly.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, his hand pressing to my knee where he held it for support. I inhaled deeply before hesitantly raising my hand ever so slowly, and I palmed his hand.

"Just stay in there," I assured. "Everything's okay."

He didn't reply, he just sniffled.

"I'm scared." He choked.

"Why?" I calmly asked, no answer heard.

His hand suddenly lost strength as it slid from my knee and dangled lifelessly by the broken door. "Harry?"

I stood to my feet and slowly peeped through the small creak of the opening, and my heart dropped a mile down. I lost my breath as I fully swung the door open, where Harry lay unconscious with broken fragment of a mirror in his left hand, which was dripping with blood.

I was silent as I knelt in front of him, ironically calm and strong as I stared at the blood pouring out from his stomach, where he had stabbed himself. "Oh, God. What have you done?"

He groaned to himself as I attempted to lift him, signifying me that something was still causing him agony. I gulped in fear as I stared at his wound and noticed a sharp piece of mirror still stuck in him. I held my breath and closed my eyes as I rigidly stuck my index and thumb into the harsh cut and gently pulled the rest of the mirror from him.

But that only made him bleed even more.

"Stay with me- don't leave me. I'll be right back."

I ran to the bathroom and yanked the cabinets open before snatching the first aid kit and racing back to Harry's lifeless figure. I called an ambulance and shakily held a handful of tissue to his cut before I pressed it down until he bled less and less. I had to make this quick before he fell back into unconsciousness.

He faintly stared down at me as I pulled out a small bottle of alcohol and placed it beside him. He flared his nostrils curiously as he had no strength to even question me. "This is going to sting."

I had to get it over with quick, so I splashed his wound without hesitation. He tensed and attempted to stand, but I pulled him back down as he screeched and squirmed in agony. My bloodstained hands got even messier as I safely sewed his deep cut with determination. But he began slipping back into unconsciousness.

"Stay with me." I cried. I cupped his sharp jaw but it was falling lifelessly from my hold.

"Don't die on me." I quivered in cries as his eyes began to shut ever so slowly.

Before I could even remotely think of something to say, a couple of paramedics unexpectedly barged in and snatched him away from my hold. They were my parents.

"Mam, dad," I cried as they both lifted him with all of their strength. "I-I tried to save him-"

"Harley, what in God's name did he do?" Dad strapped him in tight to be lifted downstairs.

"He took something! It made him do this." I gagged in sickness and hunched over to breathe.

"Get in the ambulance, stay with your father and try to help. We need to get him to the hospital before he dies."


I've mentioned this before but her parents are paramedics like they didnt just randomly show up at the house like "heeeeeyyyy"


Acid is bad ok

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