Counting Your Face Among the Living

Mikey's POV

I'm currently standing in my bathroom looking at myself in the mirror. I don't understand what is so wrong with me. Am I fat, ugly, just unlovable period? I've been having moments every now and then were I can be a little happy, and then in 2.6 seconds later I'll be depressed for hours upon hours at a time for no apparent reason. This is one of those times.

With the words Frankie had spoke to me in my dreams echoing through my mind, my arm started throbbing. I was informed yesterday that I will be getting my cast taken off in two weeks. Looking at the blue cast with black words covering it made me want to take it off now. Though if I broke a knife trying to get it off my mother wouldn't be to happy about it. Not to mention knowing me, I'd cut up my arm trying to do so.

I put my shirt back on and walked out into the open of the outside world. The sky was a gray color with white clouds poking out of the thick gray surface every so often. In the distance you could see were lightening was striking the ground on the other side of town. If you listened hard enough you could also hear thunder. Soon enough we would be getting the rain, an estimation of about an hour or so.

I walked back inside as I grabbed a cup and put some coffee into it. I put a few doses of sugar and creamer into it. As the bitter taste flowed down my throat the house phone started ringing. I was the only one home, so of course it was my job to answer it. I went into the living room, were the phone was located on the couch, and picked it up. I looked at the caller I.D to see Iero, Linda. I stared at the plastic screen before hesitatingly pushing the end button.

I walked back to my room, thinking that in just two weeks it will be Halloween. That would mean that it would be Frankie's birthday as well. When I entered my room I noticed that a movie was playing on my TV. I noticed it was the movie He Knows Your Alone. Once again I was heartbroken. I hated that feeling. When the feeling came rushing into my head, it crammed my mind with images of him, conversations between us, etc.

I sat on my bed and closed my eyes, to try and clear my head. All it brought me were the words Frank said while laughing at me while in my dream. The words of suicide, the words of hatred, the words of disgust. The words that got an idea into my head.

I walked into the kitchen and got a knife out. It wasn't a sharp knife, nor was it as dull as a butter knife. I've always heard that the duller an object was, the more it would be painful if ever used in a violent manner. I was about to find out. I walked into the bathroom and turned on the hot water. I brought the knife to my skin, and watched as the beautiful colored liquid seeped out falling into the clear water and down into the drain, to were it would never be seen again. I did this to every inch of skin I could see without having to remove my clothes. The marks weren't that shallow, but they weren't exactly bone deep either. Yet the only thing going through my head was Frankie. The cuts were leaking with the red liquid more and more. The water was falling in my flesh, burning it with every drop that landed on me, and then I passed out.

I guess in the end I did each thing I didn't want to do. I messed up my mothers knife, and I cut up my arms.