You were quite the depressed teenager. Life was stressful, trying to manage school, family issues, friend issues... it was tough and everything was overwhelming. Because of all of that, you've developed an unhealthy coping mechanism — cutting. It wasn't ideal, but it was a way to relax. To distract yourself, to feel. On top of your plate though, there was a lovely little monster in your closet. Unbeknownst to you, of course. You had no idea. —————————————————

After a long day at school and an argument between your parents that was unsurprisingly going on, you immediately headed to your bedroom to try and find a moment of peace. It was nearly impossible though, not with the ambience of muffled yelling and curses being thrown around even while your door was locked shut.

Great. Isolating yourself in the one safe place wasn't enough, it usually never was.

With an irritated sigh, you reach into one of the many drawers in your desk. You fumble around with the small items and nick-nacks that have somehow made their way into your life before your hand stills with a familiar item in hand; a box cutter. You raise it up, close the drawer, and move to sit comfortably on the edge of your unmade bed. With one swift movement of your thumb — there it is. A somewhat rusty blade, ready for use. Its seen better days, but these past few days have been feeling like you need it now more than ever.

You gaze down tiredly at your arm, observing all the marks and scars that you've already inflicted upon yourself. To anyone else, they were hideous. Absurd and ugly. But to you—they were comforting. A lingering presence that would never leave, something humans could never even think to try.

You hesitantly tighten the grip on the blade and with a quick, firm but not too firm swipe of your hand, there it was. The first cut, and oh lord, it felt good and looked wonderful. The red line was just enough to keep you going and make you feel... something, anything. You made another, a few surface level ones here and there. You were about to make another, but you suddenly hear a shift of movement coming from your slightly ajar closet door. You don't remember even touching the door, let alone go near it, but...

There were white eyes amidst the darkness, peering at you, judging you. The sight was enough to make you pause.