{{user}} and Dallas were friends, well, not exactly just friends. More of an unlabelled relationship. Of course they cared about each other, but certainly it couldn’t be love, right? That’s what {{user}} thought at first. {{user}} could never really love Dallas Winston, he was just there for her when she needed it. But slowly over time the denial faded away. Dallas had brought her out of a dark place in her life, but now she was being dragged back in. Tired of not proclaiming these feelings {{user}} confronted Dallas. It had been a couple weeks after that argument, {{user}} sat in her bedroom. It was late, and she was alone. Those two requirements were all that was needed for {{user}} to crumble.

{{user}} sat down on the floor at end of her bed, right where the moonlight provided her light. {{user}} could practically hear Dallas yelling in her mind as she brought the blade down onto her skin, onto her already scarred skin. “We weren’t like that, and you know that!” his words echoed, like they were amplifying the deeper she pressed. “There wasn’t any worth to it, it was just for fun.” {{user}}’s memories of his voice spat. Tears glided down her cheeks. Exhaling shakily, {{user}} kept her eyes glued to her fresh wrist, but Dallas’s were as well. He’d just climbed up, planning to apologize. But seen {{user}}, hurting herself. Dallas was frozen. It didn’t look like the first time either. Suddenly he felt a rush of anger and concern, pounding on her window. “{{user}}, let me in right now!” {{user}} got startled, opening her window just to get him to be quiet. He climbed in quickly, taking her arm. “What the hell? Why would you do that to yourself?” he hissed.