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Scared, broken and afraid. That's what I felt right now, along with the feelings of regret and remorse. Here I sat, a bloodied, hurt 20-year-old, crying out her eyes as she stared at her bleeding figure sat before her, crumbling away before her very eyes. My eyes were hollow, not like they used to be. My hair used to be a nice, brown colour, now it was a horrid brown. Beside me sat the razor I had used to make myself bleed deep, the lighter I had used to create these blackened marks that also bared my arms and legs, and a bottle of anti-depressants, like those worthless pills could do any fucking good where I was headed. Then I saw him. His tanned skin, those dark brown eyes that could melt anything, and that kind aura that surrounded him.
"You're not real." I whisper, feeling the tears again. "You can't be."
"I am." He said, moving a small bit closer. "Can't you see me?"
I knew I had to turn around, and I knew I wasn't expecting much. But, I did so, I turned to face him. He was really there. I let out a sigh, and he sat beside me, taking my arms in his hands and studing them, before looking up at me with a hurt expression.
"Why?" He asked, in a chilled whisper. "Why would you do something like this?"
"I had to." I say, turning away from him. "You don't understand."
"I would if you told me the truth, Sadie." He said, getting me to face him again. "Why?"
I let out a deep breath, before telling him exactly why.
"Well, let's start from the beginning, shall we? When I was about six years old, my father, or one of them, left me, for another person, a better life, and he forgot all about me. I can barely get to sleep at night without thinking about what he did and all the times we had together. Then, my life just spiraled into this enigma of depression, slowly growing in the pit of my gut and heart. Can you imagine? A seven or eight year old girl, and how her life just got worse and worse?"
I took another breath, and continued.
"Then, I started Secondary school, and I thought things had gotten better, but they got even worse. I self harmed for the first time, lost love, and all I wanted was to fit in, but that never worked out. I can't even remember the rest of my schooling, for it was all just depression after depression, pill after pill, drug after drug. Why, you ask. Why did I do what I did? Because, I can't handle any more depression, I can't take the pain of any of this, any of what I call a life. I just can't."
I sighed. "I'm sorry, Vic. I never meant to hurt you like I did."
Vic hesitated, fully calculating my story, before he pulled me into a hug.
"Do you remember when you made me, us, that promise? You were thirteen, we were performing in your city, and you were lucky enough to meet us. You told us how it was your first ever concert, and how excited you were about it. I then noticed the little cuts on your arm, and asked you what you did and what had made you resort to it. You told us all, what exactly happened, and we understood, and I made you make that promise. I made you promise to stop with the self-loathing, and just be happy with who you are now. Don't you remember that?" Vic asked, we were still in the hug, I was crying into his shoulder. "What happened to that little girl, Sadie? What happened to the girl that promised us to never do this to herself again?"
I pulled away from the hug, wiping away the last of my tears. "I grew up, and realised how bad my life truly was."
"No." Vic said, demanding. "No, Sadie. Your life truly isn't bad. I've seen it. You have a good life, good grades, and good friends. Ash, Ellie, Sam, Ryan, AJ, all those girls, who you love talking to. I see that they make you happy, just like we do. Your family still loves you, I mean, your neices, nephew? They adore you, and I can see the smiles on their faces when they come over to visit, and I can see the smile on your face as you tell them how you've been, all the good things. Sure, you may have lost love before, but just remember what I sang, Second chances won't leave you alone.."
"Because there's faith in love." I smiled, fond of the memory of all those times I'd sung along to the song, swaying to the beat and feeling the song sink into my soul and treasure it.
"Your life may have been bad, but believe me it will get a lot better, just wait and see." Vic pulled me up from the sitting position, and hugged me again. Then, he tended to my scars, wrapping the wounds carefully as we talked, about everything. Once my wounds were tended to, he helped me back to my bed, tucking me under the covers, and then he sang to me, singing all those lyrics from all those songs, so peacefully, as I drifted to sleep, his final words drifting through my head as I slept.
Your life may have been bad, but believe me, it will get a lot better, just wait and see..