I sigh in relief as the blade cuts through my skin. This is my favourite stall, only because someone had written '100 days without self-harm' on the walls. It's nice to know someone's feeling better, even if that person is definitely not me. The white walls comfort me, there's no one else in here, no one else can harm me, I'm safe in here.

I know I can't cut too much at school, so I put my arm down and think about things. I've calmed down significantly since the incident in the classroom, but tears still spring to my eyes as I think about his words. He hates me. He finds me annoying and he hates me. What am I meant to do now? He was the one person I could always trust. He was my best friend. What am I supposed to do? I mean, I should have known that no one would like me but I thought I could trust him. Vaguely I hear sobs echoing behind my thoughts, and it registers a few second late that they're mine.

I press my fist against my mouth, trying to muffle my cries, but the tears won't stop coming, the words won't stop replaying and I feel so broken. I'm so done. I can't deal with this anymore. 

I grab my blade firmly in my hand again and pull down my pants so I can see my thighs. I haven't cut here for a long time, the scars are almost fading. I slice my skin so many times that it becomes a blur, all I can see is my hand cutting and cutting and cutting until my thighs are covered in blood.

If only I was at home. I know there's that bottle of pills in the cupboard, maybe I could just kill myself and everything would be better. I wouldn't be annoying and no one would hate me because I wouldn't ing exist. That's all I want right now. I don’t want to exist. I don't want to feel this pain anymore.

Why can't I be at home?

40 minutes later I take a deep breath and exit my toilet stall. I’ve cleaned and bandaged my cuts as well as I can, all I need to do now is wash my face and hope no one realizes I was crying. Wishful thinking, I know.

I reach the sink and start to wash my hands of the blood. A voice drifts in from outside.

'-yeah, maybe he's in here, I'll check.'

I startle as I hear the familiar voice. what do I do. I fumble around, trying to find a place to hide and simultaneously get rid of any evidence.

‘Yoongi hyung?’

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