Stories In Scars
Dreams Become A Reality
A/N: This chapter has cutting in it. Just a warning.
----------
I wake up with a gasp. Needing air. It was just a dream, yet how could it be so realistic.
I need to cut. I need blood.
I go into my wallet, where I keep a razor. It’s been a year since I last self-injured, but it’s like a security blanket. No one knew it was there. My little secret.
In the bathroom, I put the blade to my forearm. Tracing my veins all the way up my arm, blood pours out.
As soon as I see that first drop of blood, I’m in a trance.
Slash, slash, slash.
Cut, cut cut.
Deeper and deeper I go. Harder and harder I push.
I must have made some sort of noise, because I see Ryan standing in the doorway, with tears in his eyes.
“Baby...” He was at a loss for words.
He came in, sat down in blood, and pulled me into his lap.
“Why, baby, why?” he asks, just about in tears.
“I. I. I--I...” I stutter.
“It’s okay.”
I hear someone bursting into the room. It’s Brendon.
“I saw a light, and since I couldn’t sleep, I decided to...” he stopped, seeing me. “Wha- what happened?”
Ryan motions for him to leave. He nods, agrees, and closes the door quietly.
I melt into his arms, but cannot cry. It’s impossible. My eyes are burning from unshed tears. I stare blankly into space.
“Why, Grey? I’m not mad, or disappointed, I just want to know why,” Ryan said, comforting me.
“There was a dream. And it -”
“Now I know. Don’t go back there. Don’t go back to that place.”
I nod, not knowing what to say.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I sit on the bathtub ledge, as he cleans and dresses my fresh self-inflicted wounds.
Oh, oh. One of them is really deep. And Ryan notices.
“Wow. Grey. I think you’re going to need stitches for this.”
Again, I nod.
Brendon, Jon, and Spencer come through the door, showering me in hugs. Even though I’m barely wearing any clothes, it doesn’t matter. I practically live with these guys.
“It’s OK. It’s OK,” they all comfort me.
“Hey,” Ryan whispers, “I need to take Grey to the hospital. For stitches. And she lost a lot of blood.”
“It’s fine. We can clean up,” Spencer offers.
“Are you okay to walk?” Ryan asks me, truely concerned.
I nod, but as I get up, my legs almost give out.
“Guess not,” Ryan concludes.
“I can help you take her to the hospital,” Jon offers.
----------
I wake up with a gasp. Needing air. It was just a dream, yet how could it be so realistic.
I need to cut. I need blood.
I go into my wallet, where I keep a razor. It’s been a year since I last self-injured, but it’s like a security blanket. No one knew it was there. My little secret.
In the bathroom, I put the blade to my forearm. Tracing my veins all the way up my arm, blood pours out.
As soon as I see that first drop of blood, I’m in a trance.
Slash, slash, slash.
Cut, cut cut.
Deeper and deeper I go. Harder and harder I push.
I must have made some sort of noise, because I see Ryan standing in the doorway, with tears in his eyes.
“Baby...” He was at a loss for words.
He came in, sat down in blood, and pulled me into his lap.
“Why, baby, why?” he asks, just about in tears.
“I. I. I--I...” I stutter.
“It’s okay.”
I hear someone bursting into the room. It’s Brendon.
“I saw a light, and since I couldn’t sleep, I decided to...” he stopped, seeing me. “Wha- what happened?”
Ryan motions for him to leave. He nods, agrees, and closes the door quietly.
I melt into his arms, but cannot cry. It’s impossible. My eyes are burning from unshed tears. I stare blankly into space.
“Why, Grey? I’m not mad, or disappointed, I just want to know why,” Ryan said, comforting me.
“There was a dream. And it -”
“Now I know. Don’t go back there. Don’t go back to that place.”
I nod, not knowing what to say.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I sit on the bathtub ledge, as he cleans and dresses my fresh self-inflicted wounds.
Oh, oh. One of them is really deep. And Ryan notices.
“Wow. Grey. I think you’re going to need stitches for this.”
Again, I nod.
Brendon, Jon, and Spencer come through the door, showering me in hugs. Even though I’m barely wearing any clothes, it doesn’t matter. I practically live with these guys.
“It’s OK. It’s OK,” they all comfort me.
“Hey,” Ryan whispers, “I need to take Grey to the hospital. For stitches. And she lost a lot of blood.”
“It’s fine. We can clean up,” Spencer offers.
“Are you okay to walk?” Ryan asks me, truely concerned.
I nod, but as I get up, my legs almost give out.
“Guess not,” Ryan concludes.
“I can help you take her to the hospital,” Jon offers.