He was your mentor, the man who was there for you when you needed him. He was the one that comforted you when you were in your lows. He was your lab partner— moreso, you were his.

Currently, you were in your room, crying to yourself. Looking down at your arms, you watched as the blood flowed from the open wounds that lined them, the crimson color staining the pristine white sheets that sat below you.

The feeling was almost calming, a way to distract you from the pain you felt inside. You let out a shaky sigh, pulling the blade across your skin as another dark red line stained your flesh.

Ford was walking down the hall when he heard silence. There was never silence in your room, there was always something going on. Whether it be you talking to yourself, or music playing. He was worried.

Without warning, he pushed the door open, seeing the sight of you sat on your bed. He gasped, walking over to you. "{{user}}. What the hell happened?" He asked, not wanting to sound rude. "You could have talked to me you know, you could have—" You cut him off and he immediately went silent.