• My heart has been pried out of my body.
    Torn.
    Ripped to shreds.
    Eaten up.
    s**t out.
    Flushed down the toilet.
    Ker-plunk, swoooooshh, slurp.
    Why did I let him do this? Even though he hurts me, I still come back to love him.
    I hate feeling this way.
    It feels like I'm going to shrivel up and die.
    It's like he's taking advantage of me, like I'm his second boyfriend that he only comes to on the weekends. Second choice.
    Second lover.
    Every time I see him with his arm draped around Iggy, I want to rip out my intestines due to my jealousy.
    I grind my teeth at the sight, mumbling to myself that it's alright.
    But it's not.
    I can't let him do this to me anymore. It's either Iggy, or me.
    You can't have both. He thinks you can, but you just can't.
    It hurts all of us. Even if you can't see it, it does.
    I just want to crawl into a corner and die.
    It's like he doesn't even care about my feelings! Does Iggy even know about our relationship?
    I highly doubt it.
    I'm sitting in my bathtub right now, a small knife in my right hand, pressing it against my left wrist. I gasp out in pain, but I don't care. I'm sick of all the hurt, of all the lies, of all the fake love. I feel hot water drip from my eyes. I keep slicing cuts into my wrist. I decide to change the spot of the cuts and, only wearing shorts, start writing "Unloved" into my right thigh with the knife. I slice my left thigh with the same word. I slice "Lied to" twice on my inner left thigh. I don't care who sees it. I'm a stupid cutting bitchy baby who gets taken advantage of by his own brother. I place my golden hair behind my left ear so I can see where I am slicing. I turn my attention back to my wrist. I wonder what would happen if I sliced down from my wrist to my elbow. Would I die? Probably. Maybe I should test it.. I go to slice down my arm, when the bathroom door slams open. I look at the blonde's face twist with different emotions so fast I think he is going to faint. I glance at my blood-stained knife, then back to his face.
    "M-Mattie, what the hell are you doing?" Alfred asks, yelling at me.
    "What does it look like I'm doing, baking cookies?" I snap back at him.
    "Give me.. the knife." Alfred reaches his hand out to grab it.
    "No." I take the knife and cut deeply into my wrist, gasping at the pain. I close my eyes, trying not to cry.
    Bad mistake. Alfred lunges at me in the bathtub, wrestling for the knife. My head smacks against the bottom of the bathtub. He pins down my arms with one hand. He finally grabs the knife victoriously and throws it out of the bathtub. He looks down my legs and at my wrist with a face contorted with horror. He strokes my cuts on my right thigh.
    "Why..? Why would you do this to yourself?" Alfred asks, his voice cracking.
    I shake my head, not letting him know the real reason why. I just notice that he is pinning my arms down so I can't smack his face.
    He takes his free hand and strokes my face. "Please tell me, Mattie.. I-I don't want to see you like this, s-see you hurt yourself.." Alfred's voice is shaky, like he is going to cry.
    I shake my head again, struggling to get free of being pinned.
    He lowers his face toward mine. "Please?" he breathes into my face.
    I blink once. Twice. A third time. I blush a pretty shade of baby pink. He strokes my blush, smirking.
    If I really want to, I can take my leg and knee him in his groin, but I don't want to. His body pressing against mine, his cool breath in my face, pinning me so awkwardly that if anybody burst through the bathroom door, they would be asking a lot of questions.
    He chuckles. "Guess I'm going to have to persuade you," he murmurs, pressing his lips against mine softly.
    I don't react fast enough, the fire burning in my cheeks. He pulls away, too soon. "Now will you tell me?" he asks in a soft velvet voice.
    I shake my head yet again, closing my eyes while doing so. I don't want him to know that he is the cause of my depression.
    He smirked, pressing his soft lips against mine again. I react faster this time, kissing him back quickly. He didn't expect this. He takes his free hand to cup my face, stroking my cheek with his thumb. He starts to loosen his grip on my hands, but I struggle to get free so I can put them around his neck. He realizes that I am trying to get free, so he grips my hands harder.
    He leaned in and nuzzled my shoulder. "Don't think you're getting away that easy, bro. You know me better than to lose a fight," he breathes into my ear.
    He feels me shudder, and kisses my neck softly. I gasp, shivering. My neck is such a weak spot. Makes me so.. vulnerable. Only Alfred knew where my weak spot on my neck was.
    He chuckles and kisses me again, this time with more passion. I close my eyes, kissing him back.
    "What the bloody hell is going on here?!"
    We turn our heads to the blonde English man in the doorway of the bathroom. I blush a deep red. Alfred lets go of my hands, putting up his own in defense.
    "I-It's not what it looks like, Iggy!" Alfred cries.
    "Then what the bloody hell is going on in here?!" Iggy yells.
    He doesn't get a response. Alfred doesn't know how to respond to that question.
    Iggy's fuzzy eyebrows furrow in anger. "That's it. We're done." He turns on his heels and walks out the door.
    "Iggy, wait!" Alfred jumps out of the bathtub, running after him. I sigh, scooting towards the corner of the bathtub, hugging my knees. I knew it. I was right the whole time.
    "If I had known you were cheating on me with Mattie, then this would have ended a whole lot sooner!" I hear Iggy say through the wall.
    "I wasn't cheating on you with Mattie. I was cheating on Mattie with you, Iggy!" I gasp at Alfred's words. I stand up and step out of the bathtub, stopping to pick up the knife.
    I turn around and sit in the opposite corner of the bathtub, slicing cuts into my thighs again. I write "Cheated on" into the inside of my right thigh. Just another thing to add to the list of depression causes.
    My list so far:
    Cheated on.
    Lied to.
    Betrayed.
    Unloved.
    Unnoticed.
    Stupid.
    Ugly.
    Abused.
    "My life is just a big bucket of fun, eh?" I mumble to myself as I watch the blood drip from my cuts into the bathtub.
    Not at all.
    Depression just sucks.
    But hey, I'll get over it.
    Maybe some day.
    Or maybe not.