A Story by Dark_Hearts

This is the story I wrote. It's half true (my story). Again, very triggering so if you are at risk, please don't read.



Darkness flooded his mind, washing out all traces of innocence and twisting it into a place of seclusion and secrecy. It seeped into every corner of his life, stealing from him everything that he loved until nothing was left. He was isolated; separated from everything and everyone even when he was in a crowd. It ate away on every source of happiness in his life until there were none left. When he was alone, it would torture him, speak to him with words which brought tears to his eyes. He hated being weak. He hated giving in to it, succumbing to the urges the darkness presented. But it was the only way to make it stop. He had to do it. He had to cut.


He wouldn’t cut deep, but blood would come up in a small line of red beads easing his emotional pain. The relief would flood his body, pushing away the darkness, even though it was only for a few moments. It was an addiction; his addiction. He went weeks without it, as torturous as it was, and when one word provoked him, he would relapse, succumb into its comforting arms. It was his only escape from the horrors of his daily life.


Everywhere he went, all he ever seemed to be able to achieve with success was disappointing people. Whether he failed a test and let down his parents, or if he made a mistake and angered his teacher. He never meant to do it, but he always seemed to do it anyway. When the dreadful moment when they got angry came, his heart would race, time slowed down, blood pulsing in his ears. His stomach would twist into knots, feeling like he had been punched in the gut. He despised the feeling with every fibre of his being, but eventually, it was all he knew and without it, he was lost. No one noticed his plight. No one cared at all. Part of him wanted to shout it out to the world ‘I’m sick of you! I just want it to be over!’ but what if they all heard him, but no one came.


One fateful day, he was sick of it to an extent he couldn’t bear. The shouting from his mother to him, the pressure of what would happen the next day at school �" it got to him. He took the dull silver blade to his wrist and rubbed it back and forth. It stung, but he kept going. It wasn’t enough. There wasn’t enough blood coming out, but he figured it would do. He sprawled out on the floor and surrendered to the force of sleep. He woke confused, to the sound of his mother and younger brother coming up the stairs and to his room. She pushed open the bathroom door yelling at him. When she saw his blood-stained wrist which he failed to cover in time, she shrieked for his father. He came running up the stairs and joined them, tears pooling in his eyes.

“How could you do this?”

“Your life is so good!”

“Didn’t you think about us?!”

All the words swam in his head, surrounded by the intensified feeling of regret. He was pulled into someone’s arms but only hugged back to comfort them. Before he knew it, he was being pummelled with an endless stream of questions. Warm tears ran down his face, but no one wiped them. They bandaged the wound and took him down for dinner which they ate in silence, glancing at him occasionally, with an expression of judging him. He averted his eyes, feeling sicker than ever, wishing so hard he had been brave enough to do the job properly.

Soon enough, his grandmother called, and despite his pleading, his mother leaked the story out to her. He felt betrayed �" violated.


The next day, he returned to school, blazer on, bandage covered. No one had missed him during the holidays. No one noticed how he was wearing his blazer despite the hot temperature. No one cared. He felt so alone.


That afternoon, he was taken to his grandmother’s place where she forced him to show her the wound. She told him ‘God will be angry at you for hurting yourself,’ but he thought: ‘why did “God” put me through this in the first place then?’ Since then, every morning in the week, his parents made him promise never to do that again, and he complied, even though he felt even worse than before. Every day, as he walked on the city streets, he wished a car would come and hit him, or that he could jump in front of an oncoming train.


But none of it mattered because he was too cowardly to try it again. His father gave him medicine for his ‘depression’ and he convinced them it was working even though it didn’t do anything. After two weeks, everyone pretended his ‘incident’ never happened. No one spoke of it, no one used the words ‘depression’ and ‘suicide’ and no one ever ever asked him if he was okay. The words became taboo, and before long, he couldn’t bear to hear them, let alone say them. Seeing them made him cringe, and reading them anywhere squeezed his heart and made his chest hurt, his stomach knotting again. But what hurt him most was that no one noticed. He was drowning and no one cared. Even more often than before, he would break down and cry, bringing the blade to his skin again. However, he never cut himself in fear that ‘God’ really would be angry at him.


But one day, things went downhill again. He couldn’t remember exactly what happened, but it made him relapse. He cut, again and again, feeling horrible. He wished he was loved, he wished someone would help him, but he knew none of those would ever come true. So instead, he wished for the one thing he could definitely get �" death. No matter how much he bled, the lust and pain never satiated. He became desperate and began to cut his forearms. Light scratches at first, slowly developing into deeper cuts. He felt so alone and the worst part was, no matter how hard he tried, he never felt like he was wanted. He was an outcast, someone who people only came to in times of need, so he separated himself from his so-called ‘friends’ and was left with only his haunting thoughts. Out of everyone, one person stayed. But not for long. They abandoned him and left him falling closer to the rock bottom, bleeding with no bandages. And he was scared.


He had hit rock bottom once before. And he didn’t want to go back. But the way things were going, he’d be there in no time. Last time, he had been caught in a net and hurled back out, most forcefully. This time, he hoped someone would find him, hold his hand and guide him back to the surface. But he knew that was only possible in his imagination. In reality, he would either be hurled back up or left to rot down there. And as bad as it was, he hoped for the latter.


It was a few months into the New Year when things changed. He was sitting alone, as usual, wishing he would be killed on his way home when someone came and sat next to him. He glanced up and met shining blue eyes and a smile as radiant as the sun.

“Hey,” smiled the new girl, “What’s your name?”

His heart stopped for a split second, causing a sharp pain in his chest; one he knew all too well as longing. He longed for her friendship, he longed for her company, but he expected neither, for he didn’t want to be let down once again.

“Why does it matter?” he replied gruffly.


His demeanour was guarded, eyes shielding his emotions from the real world and a countenance so weary, it made him seem much older than he really was. She decided to be nice.

“I’m Layla, now will you tell me yours?”

“Jared,” he muttered without meeting her eyes.

“Well Jared, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He looked up into her eyes again, a fleeting look of shock in his eyes. But as fast as it came, it was gone.

“You shouldn’t be wasting your time with me.”

“I can decide how I spend my time.”

“Well, it seems you made the wrong decision.”

With that he got up and left, a note falling out of his blazer pocket. She picked it up and was going to give it back to him when she saw the horrifying stain of red on it. Gasping, she ran to the bathroom, locked herself in and opened the folded paper.

‘I hate you. I wish you were dead. Why am I alive? Why can’t I just die?’ were scrawled on it in letters made of blood.


She didn’t want to get involved in his life without him wanting her to, but his life could very well be in her hands. She had to help him.


In class, she sat next to him despite his efforts to keep her way.

“Jared,” she began only to be cut off by him.

“I told you to stay away from me! You don’t want to be involved with me!”

“No! I choose who I want to be near! You can’t control me!”

“Fine, suit yourself, but don’t say I didn’t warn you!’ he snarled, making her shiver.

“Jared…” I began again, trying to bring up the conversation topic of his note.

“Leave me alone.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Well, I don’t want to listen.”

“Too bad. Meet me where we sat at recess.”

He rolled his eyes and went back to his work. At lunch, he sat where he usually did, forgetting completely about the conversation he had with Layla earlier in the day.

“You came,” she smiled, sitting next to him.

“Wha- Damn it!”

She giggled then went silent in nervousness. He knitted his brows together, fearing what she was going to say. She visibly took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

“Jared, I found your note.”

“What note?” he asked, confused.

“This one…” she stated, pulling out the note from her pocket.

His eyes widened only for a moment when he saw it and he covered it all up with a lie. “That’s not mine.”

“Yes, it is. It fell out of your blazer.”

He averted his eyes, seeming like he was giving up. His posture loosened a little before tensing up again. He lifted his gaze and locked eyes with her.

“You know…” he whispered.

“Yes, I do, and I want you to know I’m here for you…”

“Well, I don’t need you.”
“Jared, please, let me help you.”


Layla spent as much time as she could with him, making sure he was safe. This was fine by him. He pretended he hated it, but inside he felt oddly happy that someone cared. She would come to his house nearly every day, do homework together and just spend time with him. Eventually, she melted the walls of ice around his heart. He learnt to laugh and smile. She was changing him for the better. She was leading him away from the rock bottom.


Seeing her smile lit up his world. She was the most wonderful, selfless and kind person he knew and if he hadn’t known better, he would have guessed he was in love. Her eyes sparkled with a joy that was contagious. He felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time; happy. He was content with everything he had. She was changing him for the better, and he felt so good �" at least until the darkness came back.


She arrived at his place and went up to his room and saw him looking out of the window, sombre.

“Jared, what’s up?” she grinned.

“Nothing…” he replied, still zoned out.

“Come on, I can tell something’s wrong.”


She approached him and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

He paused for a minute and whispered his words so softly, that if it wasn’t for their close proximity, she would never have heard them.

“I’ve reached rock bottom.”

‘What is rock bottom? I’ve heard you say it a few times before.’

‘Rock bottom is a place, a place full of darkness and the essence of loneliness. I’ve been there once, and I don’t want to go back... Sometimes you get hurled out, forcefully and unwillingly and everyone is waiting for you, floating on the surface. Other times you gather all your energy and courage and push against the current and break through the barrier onto the surface, but sometimes you are left to rot there, watching everyone else float on the top... And the other time... you meet a mermaid...’

He locked eyes with her and kept speaking... ‘And she holds your hand and guides you slowly and steadily back to the top... It’s slow and agonising, but it’s worth it in the end. But one thing you need to be careful of is scuba divers, they dress like mermaids and deceive you. They take you halfway back and once you’re blindly following them, they let go and abandon you...’

‘Tell me more about mermaids,’ she whispered mesmerised.

‘Mermaids are beautiful creatures, eyes filled with endless joy...’ he glanced at her eyes, ‘A smile as radiant as the sun,’ his gaze flickered to her lips, ‘And hearts full of love and compassion... They are indeed the most wonderful beings… Once you find one, you can’t let the current take her away from you.’

‘How did you get out?’ she asked, intrigued, ‘Did you meet a mermaid?’

‘No... I... I was hurled out...’

‘Did it hurt?’

‘…Yes. Very, very much.’

‘Are you okay?’ she asked causing his heart to skip a beat. No one had asked him that in years.

‘I...’ the pain and anguish were evident in his features, his dark eyes giving away everything when his words were unable. His breathing became heavier as the tears threatened to fall. Why was she making him feel so much? What was it about her that made him open up?

“Get away from me!” he shouted, in defence.

“No, Jared, please… listen to me!” she begged him.

“I warned you Layla!” he yelled.

“I don’t regret knowing you…”

“You will.”

Tears streamed down her face as she watched him slicing his arm with the blade he picked up from the ledge. He was crying too, but only with tears. His voice was still strong.

“Jared…” she whispered, reaching out to him.

He dropped the blade and fell to his knees, burying his head in his arms. Silently kicking the blade away from him, she knelt down beside him and rubbed soothing circles on his back. His body shook with every sob that came out of his mouth. Every gasp of air he took shattered her heart. She wrapped her arms around his torso and his head nestled into the crook of her neck. Now she understood his metaphor.

“Layla…” he cried.

“It’s okay… just let it all out…” she whispered, continuing rubbing his back.

His warm tears soaked her top and his blood got onto it too. But she didn’t care. She needed him and she needed him to be okay.

“I… I just w-want it all to… to be over…”

“It’s going to be alright,” she squeezed him tighter and put one hand in his hair.

“Why does it have to… to hurt… so… so much?”

“I don’t know…” she replied.

“Why m-me?!” he sobbed, the pain and hurt escaping in his voice.

“I don’t know honey…” she whispered, her voice cracking at not being able to help the poor boy.

“I… I just wanna… d-die…” he choked out.

That was it, her heart was in pieces and she rested her chin on his back and cried too. After a few minutes filled only with their gasps for air, he spoke again.

“You should go, Layla,”

“No! How can I leave you like this?”

“This is my fight, not yours.”
“It’s my fight too now Jared! I love you so much, and whatever hurts you hurts me too!”

He froze. She said the word with so much conviction, it almost felt real. At that moment, she saw the vulnerability in his eyes, the shock of hearing her say whatever she did.

“What happened?” she asked.

“You… You said it…” he said, his voice full of emotion.

“Said what…?”

“That you l-love me…” his eyes widened when he uttered the sentence as if he had said something wrong. The walls he had built around himself rose up again.

“I do… I really do…”

“No! You don’t!” he burst out in a mix of anger and fear, “You’re lying!”

“Jared, why would I lie about that?” she said, reaching out and brushing his cheek with the back of her hand only for it to be whacked away with astounding force.

“Liar,” he growled.

“No!” she whimpered, knowing what he was capable of.

“Leave,” he ground out.

Terrified, she got up, regret evident in her eyes, and left. She shut the door behind her and jogged a little on the spot so it seemed like she was gone, then she waited. There was a horrible crash and a thud as he fell to the floor again. Tears ran down her face at hearing the pain he was in. She leaned on the door and slumped onto the floor, not wanting to leave him in this situation. He yelled in frustration, his voice echoing in her head.

And then there was silence.


Her heart raced, both in fear and compassion for the boy’s plight. His suffering was unnecessary and he had done nothing to deserve it, yet here he was, an innocent being tortured. She was mad at God.

‘Why are you doing this to him? What did he do to deserve this?!’ she yelled in her head at ‘God’. She was so angry she didn’t know what to do. The silence scared her, so she knocked softly on the door and entered. He was lying on top of the messed up sheets of his bed, his cheeks tear-stained and lip trembling slightly. He stared blankly at the ceiling, no emotion on his face except for the tears. Gently, she sat down beside him and pushed the hair out of his face, kissing his forehead.

“They always leave me…” he whispered brokenly.
“Who does?” she asked lovingly.
“What do you mean?”
“No matter how hard I try, I will never be good enough for anyone. They always find someone better,” he said, blankly.
“Oh, Jared! No! Those people don’t deserve you! You’re too good, too pure for them.”
“They’re right… I’ll never be good enough.”
“You’re more than enough for me. And I promise I’ll always be here for you.”
“No, you won’t…”
“I will, baby, I promise you,” she cried and kissed his forehead again.
“Don’t…” he replied, “Don’t make a promise you can’t keep…”
“I’ll keep it, honey, I will,” she continued reassuringly.
“I feel so alone, Layla.”
She held his hand in hers, encouraging the broken boy to continue.
“So, so alone… Why is this happening to me?” he asked innocently, turning his head to face her.
“I don’t know baby,” she squeezed his hand.
“It’s not fair…” his voice cracked.
“I know…”
“Why won’t it get better?”
“It will…”
“No! It won’t! I’ve waited so long for it to get better, but it just gets worse!” he turned away, getting defensive again.

“I’m sorry baby…” she whispered, “I don’t know how you feel, but I really am trying to help you.”
“I’m sorry too… I’m such a burden to you, Layla. You’re so selfless, compassionate… perfect, and then there’s me. Polluting you with my mere presence and company. You need to leave me.”

“No, I’m going to be with you, every step of the way. I’m going help you, Jared.”
“Thank you…” he faced his mermaid again, a fresh tear slipping down his cheek.

She smiled sadly and wiped the tear from his cheek, planting another kiss on his forehead. She lifted his head onto her lap and rubbed it gently, sending him into a peaceful sleep. He slept dreamlessly and quite peacefully. She was mesmerised, watching his beautiful countenance, angelic and calm as he lay on her lap. She raked a hand through his luscious hair multiple times, smiling at the boy she had grown to love so dearly. He stirred a little and she let him shift positions to a more comfortable state.

“Layla…” he murmured, his voice laced with sleep.

“Yes,” she whispered breathlessly.

“I love you… my mermaid…”

With that, he turned and went back to sleep, leaving her dumbfounded and very confused. His cheek pressed against her thigh and made him look adorable in her eyes. So innocent. So beautiful. She grinned and whispered: ‘I love you too’.


© 2018 Dark_Hearts

Author's Note

I know it's kind of graphic and very dark, but it's my story. At least half of it is true and the other half is what I wish would happen. (This is genderbent, I am a girl)

My Review

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Amazing, very detailed! i love the choice of words and all! It had me itching for more.

Posted 6 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


6 Years Ago

Thanks for the encouragement!
Wrong is because all the hate inside of you. Stop hate and start to love, this is the only cure

Posted 6 Years Ago

0 of 1 people found this review constructive.


6 Years Ago

Sorry, but I still do not understand what you mean by wrong.

6 Years Ago

Everyone's life are different so the definitions of wrong are way too different.
things might.. read more

6 Years Ago

Okay, thanks.

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2 Reviews
Added on March 21, 2018
Last Updated on November 25, 2018
Tags: depression, darkness, metaphor, save, death, pain, suicide, rock bottom, love, true



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