The Day Before

the beggining

Is it all worth it...? Is it worth breathing? "Whats my purpose?" he thought. I cant take my pain away but I sure as hell can cover it up. He grabbed the blade and put it up to the soft skin on his arm and dragged with applied pressure. "Im not worth it, no one is ever going to want me" he whispered to him self. Once again he put the blade from his broken sharpener onto his soft skin and dragged with applied pressure. After about ten to fifteen cuts later he wiped away the tears that filled his eyes and proceeded to the bathroom. There he locked the door and opened the mirror. There was his medicine cabinet. He grabbed the bottle of depression medication, took out a few of the bottle and chased them down with warm water. He put the medication back in the cabinet and proceeded to lie on the cold ground. Still blood coming from his arm and tears from his eyes. After a few various hours of soft crying and mass amounts of blood spilt on the floor the boy gets up and goes to his room.
He proceeds to lock the door and sits on the stone cold floor. Looking at the suicide note he had written about one hundred times over he finally decided to let the blade kiss his skin one last time before leaving to where he really belongs... He proceeded to pick up his blade, he lies down in his back with the suicide note on his stomach. He presses the blade up to his neck and drags with lots of applied pressure. He throws the blade and sits there choking on the blood running down his neck up to his throat. He's suffering slowly. And no one is there to help... He passed on to where he really belongs.
A week later his mother is worried about her fallen son. Multiple phone calls all delivered straight to voicemail. She gets in her old ratty '64 chevy truck and drives to her sons home. She gets out and sees his car in the driveway slowly collecting dust. She bolts through the door and proceeds to break down her son's bed room door. Only too see him dead on the blood stained floor with his note on his stomach and his blade in his cold hand.