Connor in the Bathroom

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Connor was sobbing. Why wasn't he enough for Evan? Zoe had already come in, asking him what was wrong...

"Connor? Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, Zoe, fuck o-off..."

"Connor..."

Zoe's eyes had widened. "Evan?" She had whispered.

Connor was sobbing violently, trying to remember where he hid his just-in-case-of-an-emergency blade. "ZOE!" He had screamed. "GO THE FUCK AWAY!" He had punched his little sister, right in the gut, and she had run away, crying and screaming, "WELL DAMN YOU NO WONDER EVERYONE HATES YOU, YOU ASSHOLE!"

Connor had gone searching for his emergency blade the second the door shut.

Connor looked at the mirror.

1, 2, 3, 4. He saw the blood dripping down his arms and puddling in the sink.

Hushabye baby, your almost dead
You don't have a pulse and your pillows red
Your family hates you, your friends let you bleed
Sleep tight with a knife, cause that's all you need
Rockabye baby, broken and scarred
You didn't know life would be this hard
Time to end the pain you hid so well
And down you go baby
Straight back to hell

Connor sang the cutter's lullaby softly, grinning wildly at the mirror as blood dripped down his arms and tears streamed down his face.

5,6,7,8.

Connor dug even deeper, seeing his blade next to a vein.

Who needed the long-haired, drug addicted, depressed school shooter anyway?


I. AM. NOT. CRYING. 

I don't own the cutter's lullaby, also.

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