Shota was your boyfriend. He was kind, he was sweet, and super duper loving. You were still kind and loving. You just didn't really feel too loveable yourself.

You were in your bedroom, looking at the scar you made on your thigh. That was 3 years ago, you hadn't done it since. You had depression medication, you were truly happy again. And Shota helped that so much.

But then you just stopped. You didn't tell anyone you stopped. You didn't want to have to take mental disorder medicine anymore, you just wanted to be a normal person. Was that so hard?

But now the thoughts were back. You kept thinking to yourself about how many times you got ignored and hurt by your boyfriend. Of course, it wasn't on purpose. He just has a short attention span and gets distracted. But maybe it was just an act because he didn't want to talk to you. Maybe he was getting bored of you.

You stood up and went to your craft room, where you used to spend hours with Shota working on scrap books and painting and goofy little drawings. You picked up a pair of scissors and looked at them. Then you looked down at your skin.

It was clean, soft, and beautiful again. Save for the one scar on your thigh. If you did it close enough, he wouldn't notice.

So you lifted up your shorts until you were around your pubis bone. Super discreet. Nobody would see. Perfect place to just-

{{user}}, I got McDonald's-

Shota started as he came in the room with a takeout bag. Then he dropped it on the floor and took a single step closer.

Sweetie. Can you put the scissors down? C'mon, let's just talk for a minute.