Deeper words, deeper cuts

sometimes meaningless words to one, are full of clarity to another. TW- Suicide/SH

He was just a regular young boy living his miserable little life. 

He didn't really have many friends, no love life or drive for one and had complications with family.

Something that he had a lot of were knives, razors, glass, sharpened objects and an insane desire to use them for wrongful intent.

Not to prepare the next meal, not to shave his coarse face, not to drink and certainly not to draw straight lines with sharpened rulers on paper but to mark deep lines within his skin, hoping for bloodshed.

He liked the self inflicted pain that he suffered from others words and actions, he NEVER liked the pain they gave him but only the pain he made himself.

He found pain within desperate times of hopelessness, regret, sadness as the cry's of sorrow masked what he really wanted.

Control.

Death.

Freedom.

The words being repeated, screamed at him day after day.

He felt what was going on inside his poisoned mind full of other peoples opinions.

The worse the words the deeper the cuts became, instead now he didn't cut because he liked the pain he instead wanted everything to end.

For his heart to stop pumping liquid blood.

For his mind full of scorpions to stop thinking, replaying and seeing the future.

For his feelings to stop.

He wanted everything to stop, everything to end, for his life to stop.

Years of suffering and years of deep gashes within his silky skin created scars that never fade.

One attempt after another, each one becoming quicker and quicker to its final destination.

Each attempt getting closer, he could feel drifting out of consciousness and towards light but being saved every single time.

He had finally had enough of "slow" deaths as he liked to call them and now he was serious as this was the one.

He HAD to chose the quickest death.

He finally found it after some thinking.

(Days pass)

The one thing finally acquired.

A gun, specifically a modified Glock 19.

Armour piercing rounds, extended magazine, semi-auto capability and a suppressor.

He had the barrel pressed on the inside on his mouth pointed towards his poisoned brain, which was soon to be free.

Minutes had past for all the people he loved, missed and wanted to keep. 

Nothing stopped him.

*A faint whisper sounded*