Hidden Until Now

He took out the screw and the blade clattered to the floor. It was time. With shaking hands he picked up the blade and examined it. How the light shined off the sharp tip. He looked back down at his own body, clustered with scars in every place you could see, it was a miracle no one had seen. No one knew the pain he went through every single day. Everyone said being a boy meant being strong and fearless to pain, he responded ‘fuck you’. He was fed up, fed up of hiding the scars, holding back the tears, fed up of being alone and depressed.
It wasn’t always like that for him, he used to have friends and was happy. That all changed after that summer. He was never the same. The problems grew day by day. Anxiety. Paranoia. Depression. Anorexia. The feeling of not ever being good enough. He thought that being skinny would make people like him. He was wrong. Like he always is. He turned to pills and self-destruction to numb the pain but it would always be there.
The tears flooded his vision as he took the blade and ran it slowly across his wrist. He watched as the blood rose to the surface, proving his life, for the last time. He did it again. On his wrists, his legs, his stomach. Again. And again. His anger kept on building as his attacked his body with fresh wounds. Tears fell off his face and mixed with the blood.
He finally became too weak to carry on. His hands trembled and blood flooded the floor. He reached towards the bathroom cupboard grabbing the bottle of pills he kept hidden. He dropped it three times before finally getting them near him. He lay back against the wall feeling his body become too weak to move. Shaking, he opened the bottle and poured half the bottle in his mouth and swallowed, just to make sure.
The darkness flooded his mind dragging him away from life. For the first time in months, he smiled.