Creating Me - Eremin

Chapter 3

a/n: Thank you to everyone who's been reading this and for all of the lovely comments I've received! I'm having a lot of fun writing this story, and since it's summer, I'll be updating frequently!

Trigger warnings: depression, self harm, suicide mentions

My eyes opened slowly, squinting slightly at the light. I heard a voice come from somewhere near me, "Oh good, you're awake." A moment later, the smiling face of that new boy, Eren, appeared in front of me. His green eyes glistened, his smile was so perfect, so... I shook my head to clear my thoughts. What was I thinking? I just met this guy, for god's sake!

I decide to smile back at him. "Hi." I croak in my annoyingly-high pitched voice.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, a look of concern crossing his face.

"Like total shit." I reply with a bitter smile. "By the way," I scratch the back of my neck, "was that you who got me out of there?"

He blushed and replied, "Yeah... I mean, I-I know we just met and everything, but you seemed really nice and then when I walked out of school and saw those assholes beating you up," he ran his hand through his hair, "I just got protective, I guess. I get that way with my friends." By the time he finished, his face was a rose-pink color.  I smiled.

"So, we're friends?" I asked.

"O-only if you want to be!" He replied quickly, stumbling over his words.

I smiled and said, "Of course."

But then a thought occurred to me. If he'd carried me all the way here from my house... is it possible that he felt my binder? Does he know? Suddenly there were a million questions in my head, and I began to feel dizzy.

"Hey Armin, you alright?" Eren asked, a concerned look on his face.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I smile back at him. "A little dizzy is all. And I should probably be heading home soon, my grandpa might be getting worried." Wow, lying through my teeth. My grandpa doesn't give a flying fuck about me, I might as well live alone.

"Oh, okay. Are you sure you're okay to walk? Or stand?" Eren replied. I stretched my legs and twisted so I could plant my feet on the floor of what I could only assume to be Eren's room. I wiggled my toes, shook my arms, and stood up.

"Yup, good to go." I smiled at him. His expression remained concerned as I took a few steps to his door, and he quickly followed me. He showed me down a flight of stairs, through a living room, and to his front door, which I opened. 

"Thank you. For everything." I said, and pulled him into a hug. 

"See you tomorrow?" He asked.

"See you tomorrow." I replied, letting go of him. 

"Are you sure you don't need a ride home or anything? I could-"

"Just tell me what street we're on, and I'm good to go." I smile. He tells me the address of where we are, and I'm surprised to find that I live just a few blocks away. I say goodbye and start walking home.

{time skip to Armin arriving at home}

I unlock my front door and push it open very quietly, just in case grandpa's home. After listening for a few moments, I decide that it's safe to go inside, and slowly creep in. I make my way upstairs to my room, still being cautious, just in case.

When I reached my room, I closed my door behind me, flopped onto my bed, and cried. I didn't cry for long, though, and went to something more physical for solace. I rummaged around in my dresser until I found the little cardboard box, which had been used to hold a bar of soap until I came across it. 

I slide off the lid and look at all of the blades housed inside o it. Big and small, sharp and dull, from razors, X-Acto knives, pencil sharpeners, anything you could dream of. For today, I picked a small, but sharp, one from a small x-acto knife. 

I walked into the bathroom, blade in hand, and locked the door behind me. A million words swirled in my mind,

Tranny

Freak

Faggot

Worthless

Unwanted

Useless

Fat

Ugly,

and so, so many more. I pulled back the sleeves of my sweater and held my wrists above the sink as I started slicing, a cut for each word that appeared in my brain. When I was done, I watched as the thick red liquid dripped from my wrists and down the drain. I cleaned out the sink, put some gauze (which I taped down) over the cuts, and laid down in bed.

So many thoughts still in my head, generally revolving around the fact of how worthless I was and how I should just die. God, I wanted more than anything to just die, I served no purpose in this world, brought no joy, I really was useless. 

Maybe someday I'll actually do it,  I thought to myself, maybe one day I'll actually kill myself and all of this will be over. These are my last thoughts before I passed into a deep sleep.

a/n: please don't kill me