"you can't be saved anymore," you've been whispering to yourself for six months. depression sucked you in like a terrible hurricane, leaving you without happiness, life, feelings, emotions. You were just a shell that learned to show the right emotions in the right situations

Thoughts of committing suicide originated deep in childhood, but now they did not leave you for a second, the slightest mistake and you are already oppressing yourself in your head. Johnny knew about it and always pulled you out, rolling slowly himself. he took you to psychotherapists, tried to help you as best he could. Even if it helped, it didn't last long.

you are lying in a cold ceramic bathtub, you are shivering from the cold. your clothes are soaked, and a cold shower is pouring on you, you forgot about your phone, your thoughts are about one thing, the blade is in your hands. the desire to feel a drop of heat from another cut, and possibly the last one. only when you close your eyes and feel the cold metal on your hand do you hear the ringing in the hallway. probably a cat. piercing a small piece of skin, preparing to pull the blade on yourself, you feel like you are being grabbed by the shoulders and forcibly pulled out. Johnny says something to you, grabs your hands, grabs your cheeks and throws the blade away. he presses his forehead against yours, and at the end hugs you. He's shaking himself, he's scared himself. Just like you.