Spencer’s POV

          The razorblade is cold in my warm hands.  It’s almost funny to think how such a little object could be so threatening.

          Some people might wonder why I would externally harm myself when I could just pop some pills and have it be over with.  One of the reasons is that I think I need to feel the pain, the release.  But the main reason is my mother.   She was always proud of my looks and my body.  But that was before she practically disowned me after I told her I was gay.  The only reason I haven’t been shipped off to boarding school or killed in my sleep is my father, Arthur.  He was the one person that supported me fully in anything I would do.  Whether it was deciding to become an artist or dye my hair black (which I admit was a mistake on my part) he would always be on my side.

          He is probably the only person that will miss me when I’m gone.

          It’s pretty sad that I cant think of another person that cares about my existence.  Like I said my mom would probably murder me if she had the chance, my brother Glen is to worried about his popularity at school to admit he has a gay sister, and my other brother Clay is to wrapped up in his homework to notice anything that doesn’t have to do with Newton’s 3^rd law. (Whatever the hell that is)

          Alright it’s time.

          5 minutes til the fam gets home from church.

          I know it might sound cruel but while I bleed out onto the bathroom floor, the last thing I want to see is my mothers reaction.  I want to look her in the eye one last time and let her know that she was the main cause of all this.

Here goes.

——-

The sharp steel blade doesn’t make a sound as it slices neatly through the tender flesh on my wrists.

          I just stare at the second hand going around the clock while blood is flowing steadily from my cuts pooling around me.

          I hear the front door close followed by my mothers heals coming up the steps.

          She walks right past the open bathroom door.

          WHAT THE FUCK!!!!  EVEN IN DEATH I CAN’T CATCH A BREAK!!!

          But then I hear a very subtle squeak as she turns on her heel and slowly walks to the open door of the bathroom.

          She’s just standing there staring at me with her eyes wide open.

          As I look into her eyes I see something that I haven’t seen since that day in 8^th grade when I broke my arm trying to skateboard.

          In that one look I saw sadness, regret, anger, and love.

          To be honest I was half expecting her to pull out a foam finger and blow horn and start chanting DIE!! DIE!! DIE!

But she didn’t.  I saw her drop her purse on the ground and start moving her mouth like she was screaming. 

My hearings gone.

She ran over to me on the floor and embraced me like a real daughter.

My body’s numb.

A river of tears makes its way down her face and I see her lips form the word sorry.

Then darkness.

It’s my first story.  What do you think? Should I keep going?      <3