Fake You Out (Kellic)

Chapter 8 (Final)

See, I've been struggling with depression ever since that day when I came out to the entire campus. I mean, it's not like I willingly came out, anyway. My 'best friend,' Justin Hills? Yeah, he outed me, ratting me out to Vic himself. I've always admired Vic and up until now, I'm still not quite sure as to why I am head-over-heels for the guy. I mean, he's the biggest douchebag of the school so why bother, right? Well, the less logical side of me won the little debate that had been going on in my head for years and without any thoughts, whatsoever, I decided to tell Justin about my undeniable feelings towards Vic. I trusted Justin. I mean, I thought I did. I treated him as my best friend so I thought, why not? Little did I knew, Justin was just another homophobic asshole that was secretly disgusted at my little confession, leading him to mindlessly wreck the rest of my life.

Just like any other futile teenager with no one else left to help him, I turned to the cold, silver, razor that once silently sat with the rest of my art supplies. It started with one, innocent line. They always start there, right? With one sole try? In my case, that's what happened. It was becoming all too much for me to handle and so I tried it. I regretted it in a heartbeat though. I felt stupid after doing it so I told myself that I would stop and ask help and advice from someone. Since my sister's studying in a college a few states away from home, I tried to contact her and we were able to talk about it, partly. The time zone's a bitch and it was just too hard to cope with. I thought of asking for professional help but I didn't have the money for that- we didn't have the money for that. I needed someone to be there beside me. I needed someone who could stand up for me whenever people throw their hurtful insults towards my direction. I needed someone who I could trust with everything. I needed someone to just hold me and tell me that it's going to be okay. No one aid for my simple need though.

My father's always out. Like what he said from that argument that they had in our house, he had been doing everything just to work his ass off for our stupid little family. I couldn't blame him though. My mom doesn't have a stable job and my sister is studying in a far university. Someone had to sacrifice for our needs, right? Little did he know, I needed him. I needed the father figure when I was so broken down, when I lost all hope in humanity because of school and the constant harsh bullying that I got from the people in it.

Going back, when Justin outed me, it was the worst thing that anyone could ever do to me. See, right from the beginning, I was a no one. I am just a kid who sits quietly somewhere in the middle of a crowded classroom, begging for the time to tick faster. I was that kid that could be gone for days and no one would even notice the empty space beside them. I was that kid.

Things took a huge turn after Justin and Vic's devious plan. I was publicly humiliated for having feelings towards someone of the same gender, every kid who didn't even know of my existence suddenly had my name on the tip of their tongues, shooting me disgusted glares whenever I would walk the hallways. I didn't even had the confidence to attend our gym classes since I couldn't hide the obvious scars, bruises and scratches that had been littering around my body. The sad fact behind those marks though is that no other person did those for me. I did them to myself. The one promise that I made to myself was broken down by my own dark and clouded head.

I was in my lowest point, I thought. My sister was so far away, my mom and dad always engage in such rough arguments every night, the only person that I considered as my best friend turned their back on me and the kids that once couldn't care less about me and my entire existence suddenly had their venomous teeth biting on every single string of sanity left inside me.

24th of December, my sister didn't have a single penny to travel back to our house for Christmas, my mom was out to one of our neighbor's empty house to check on it since that's one of her side-line thing to earn money and my dad would rather drink with his buddies from the construction site that he has been working in. I was finally left on my own. A few hours until Christmas and I was left on my own. Hell, we didn't even have the money to put up some decorations or to cook food for the said holiday. It was such a low and empty feeling. I just wanted for something to snap me right back to my sanity. I wanted to feel something. Anything.

I stared down on my thighs, different lines littering my pale skin; horizontals, verticals, red marks, faint marks, everything that you could ever imagine for an imperfectly destroyed and skin. They weren't enough, though. I needed something more. I went to grab my trusty blade and for the first time in my life, I pointed it on my forearm. It was an unreal feeling, really. It took a lot in me to do it. But I was alone, it was too silent and it felt like the house was too huge for me and it somewhat felt so suffocating. From the wrist up to the dent behind my elbow, I drew a long vertical line. My breath was stuck in my throat and in an instant, I felt light headed as a stream of blood came gushing from the line that I drew. Was I panicking? Was I worried? Did I regret it? No. I regretted none of it. I sat on my bedroom floor with an overwhelming sensation washing down my almost lifeless body. I felt so weak but it didn't feel quite enough. I wanted it to end now but I didn't have the enough energy to draw another long line on my other arm. Without any more hesitations, I shakily pushed myself off from the floor and went straight to the bathroom, filling the bathtub with cold December's water. I didn't bother stripping off my clothes as the water soon invaded the white tub. I laid there, my head rested on the cold porcelain material, watching my blood create these beautiful artistic-like lines as they dance with the clear water. Once satisfied, I lowered myself, water slowly dragging me down to the depths of its shallow solace.  I let out the remaining our in my systems, creating little bubbles to appear right before my eyes. I watched them as they slowly went up, disappearing in a span of seconds.

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I shut my eyes as I lost track with the little things that remained looming in and out my ears. This is it. I could finally rest in the most comforting peace.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out where I am.

I am laying flatly and still on a dull hospital bed, not being able to move. Due to what? Comatose, apparently. I'm still lying cold on the scrawny bed in that dilapidated place, my eyes not daring to open.

Remember all those sugar-coated bullshit that I told you about from the start; from my perfect little life at home to the -almost- happily ever after fairy-tale with that Vic Fuentes guy? They're all well-narrated scenes by my dark head. I dreamed of everything- every little precious and perfect little thing that had 'happened' was just a product of my desperate imagination. Not all of us could live a perfect little life anyways, right? Because in my case, I am just that kid who got picked on for being attracted to a guy. I am that kid who doesn't do well in class. I am that kid with the dysfunctional family. I am that kid who lays lifelessly on some hospital bed for the past few months. I am just that kid who tried to kill himself and obviously failed.

If you were to ask the kids at school if they had ever heard of the said name, most probably, they would say that, yes, they indeed have had heard of my name,

 Kellin Quinn.

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Thank you for reading this little side-thing fic. I needed to get these thoughts out so yeah, I've decided to write this quick thing before starting up the Sequel of Open Up My Eager Eyes. Also, I am working on a very true-to-life story called There's Something About Kellin. So, if you happen to be interested in that sort of stuff, you should go and check that one out.  Again, thank you so much for reading!