Trigger Warning: Suicidal thoughts and actions. Graphic

  You were tired of being criticized by Stina Heks and her goons. The words she spat affected the way almost everyone looked at you. And you didn't have anyone left who cared.

  Your parents were always off in Atlantis doing work, leaving you alone to soothe your pain.

  As a [YT] of your strength, people tended to stray from you. Not wanting to even look you in the eye. Afraid you would do something horrible.

  Then there was Stina. She loved to tease you. It made you wonder how she could even pass as an elf, she knew the pain she caused, but never once did she feel guilty. She made fun of your [YEC] eyes. Then she would yank on your [YHL] [YHC] hair...

  When the time came around, everyone was getting gifts and such. But you never received anything. Just a bunch of glares and kicks. You'd look across the hall, seeing how Fitz and Keefe had their own bags flooded with crush cuffs and more gifts other than that. Jealously racked at your brain. You weren't exactly friends with them, but you still wished they would send you a smile. That would be a better gift than a physical one.

  Once, Stina had left you something. And you couldn't have been more thankful.

  She had managed to snatch some razors from the Forbidden Cities.

  You knew very well what these things could do. You kept them of course. And let the insults come tumbling down at you. They broke you down piece by piece. But your comfort had always been those sharp demons that you called angels.

  However one day you had been driven too far, and you were forced to drive away the pain of laughter and hate in school, not at home in the solitary of your room as you always had.

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Your POV

  I was walking out of the line with my lunch. I didn't have that much food. Yes, many of the elves here tended to say I was fat and such. But that was the only insult which I paid no mind to. After all, my physique wasn't theirs. Other than that, I couldn't stand everything they called me;

  Ugly. All elves were beautiful. I had yet to meet one that had a hideous face. But I see one every time I look into the mirror.

  Pathetic. I'm not the smartest in many of my class subjects. Was I supposed to act like I was smart? Was I supposed to excell at everything like most elves? We all had our pros and cons. But my body is just built up on my mistakes, as is my smile.

  Attention seeker. Sometimes I'd use my talent to drive people away. But instead, it accidentally drew people closer to me. Whenever Keefe Sencen passes by, I flash him a genuine smile, one I never show to other people. I hope for him to smile back, but he never does. I say Hi, Good Morning, and greet him in many ways, but he never responds.

  I was knocked out of my thoughts. Literally. I opened my [YEC] eyes to see Stina had tripped me in the middle of the mess hall. My face planted into the mallowmelt I had on my plate. The cacophony of laughter was just as deafening as any volley of gunshots on a battlefield. I jumped to my feet and dashed out. I felt an odd twinge, as if someone was staring intently at me. But I shook it off. I knew everyone was staring at me. What difference did it make if I could only feel one pair of eyes?

  I ran to my locker, licking the DNA strip. It tasted bitter, but that had been a flavor  I came to be familiar with when blood managed to splash on my face. The taste of iron...and agony.

  I took out my best friend in the whole wide world and ran to the farthest area in Foxfire. Out of breath, indeed.

  But not even the pressure on my lungs from never stopping could compare to the tear in my heart.

  I sat down in the dark corner, leaning my head back onto the wall as I pulled my feet to my chest. And I cried. I did this a lot. Sometimes at school. Mostly at home. My parents never knew. Nobody ever knew. I didn't doubt Stina knew, that was always her main goal when she made fun of me.

  My tears flooded my vision. I had learned to keep quiet when I cried. As to not draw attention. I didn't want comfort. I had no need for sympathy. Because nobody knew how I felt.

  I slowly opened the box. It was a pearly white box with a red ribbon on top. I pulled out a fresh clean razor. I had six. And already four had gone dull. I slowly slid up the sleeves of my tunic, my eyes glazed over as I stared at my faintly scarred [ST] arm. I had stopped for a short period of time. Just to let more skin grow over, so I had more space to cut.

  I softly pressed the cold blade to my skin. It felt like heaven to the touch. Whether anybody understood or not wasn't my concern. Then I began to push until I felt the prick of the blade penetrating the soft cloth we called skin.

  Day by day, the words everyone murmured had embedded themselves onto the skin I wore. Day by day, my blood was shed from my own hands.

  I slowly dragged the blade along. Savoring every moment when I felt a thread of skin rip apart, exposing the flesh, crimson blood seeping. It was nothing but a prolonged sting. My face was now dry, with nothing but a look of angst.

  It was a simple routine...Place, push, prick, drag, rip. Place, push, prick, drag, rip. I had lost all regret for scarring my own body. What was there to regret when nobody else liked how it appeared?

  I made one successful cut. I stared at it in awe. The way the blood just passed by innocently, then was veered off course by the gaping vertical line in my arm. My flesh pink and pulsing as it pushed the blood out. I got dizzy just counting how many bubbles there were in the stream.

  I continued to cut, until I became drunk on the fumes of the red liquid that escaped my arm and spilled onto the floor. Staining my cape and the tiles. The life had long gone from my [YEC] eyes. [YFN] [YLN] was no more.

  My hand carrying the blade went limp from fatigue, dropping to my side. The blade clattered as it fell. I tilted my head back, leaning against the wall, both arms at my side as I was ready to sink into the sweet black euphoria.

  I was ready to die. I wanted to die. Nobody needed me. Nobody wanted me. I'm a poor excuse for a [YT] elf...
 
  Then I was ripped from my hallelujah by the sounds of running footsteps clicking on the tiles towards me.

  I didn't lift my head, I just listened to the rhythm as my eyes fluttered close...

  Click. Clack.. Click. Clack..

  "No no no! [YN]! Open your eyes!"A familiar voice begged. I turned my head to see the one and only Keefe Sencen on his knees next to me.

  His pants stained by the pooling blood. He grasped my scarred arm, I felt no pain. What was there to feel anymore?

  I let my eyes open wider, to let him know I was still with him.

  "You know my name?"I rasped, feeling weak from the blood loss. The blonde nodded profusely, pulling me into his arms, draping me across his lap.

  "Why? Why do you do this to yourself? It's not the answer.."He murmured.

  I felt myself getting lost in his icy blue hues, until I was jolted into reality by his remark.

  "You don't know that, Keefe. You don't have to deal with this kind of stuff. Nobody hates you the way they hate me..."I coughed. His face contorted into one of frustration, tears rimming his eyelids.

  "Nobody calls you ugly. You're far from it. You're not stupid, you're so smart and talented. Nobody thinks you want attention. Nobody thinks you're excruciatingly flawed. Or frightening. Because you're so perfect. And I envy elves like you. Look at me. What am I? Nothing but a poor excuse of an elf. I am a disgrace to this species."I continued on.

  Keefe chuckled weakly and shook his head."No..you have no idea. You can't do this to yourself anymore.."He just continued to protest. As if he wasn't listening. Which began to piss me off.

  "Who said I can't? Hmm? This is my escape. This was always the way I comforted myself. You don't know how it feels!"I yelled, tears bursting out from behind the barriers called my eyelids.

  He growled."I do! I do know how it feels! I'm an Empath! It's all I ever feel!"He screamed back.

  Keefe let me slide from his lap, seeing I was conscious enough to support my own body.

  "[YN]...I'm an Empath, a very powerful one for that matter. Of course I know how you feel. Do you know what it's like? Being bombarded by the emotions of people around you? I have to feel their pain! Their hate. Their agony. I have to feel all of it. The only thing I can feel are the emotions of others. Sometimes I wish I wasn't able to do that without having to touch them! There are days I wish I couldn't..I know how you feel. Because right now, it's all I can feel."He trailed off. Then started laughing.

  "I also have my asshole of a father!"I had never heard an elf use profanity before. Besides myself.

  "He wants me to be exactly like him. All high and mighty. What kind of a parent puts all this pressure on their child and calls it good parenting? I don't want to be perfect. I don't want to be refined. I want to be me! But I'm not allowed to be me in my own home. I'm not allowed to look how I want either. I'm not allowed to do what I want..now that  I think about it, this thing sounds like a great idea. I'll do exactly what I want to do."He growled.

  Keefe reached over and snatched up the blade. I watched in horror as the elf I looked up to yanked back his own sleeve and began to draw on his arm. A beautiful picture. He drew a very detailed rose with thorns, a noose hanging by the sharpest thorn. The blood slipped down his arm and circled his wrist like a bracelet, then separated in streams to drip down each of his fingers. Even his blood found its way to the ground like beautiful art.

  I froze as his blood mixed with mine. But relaxed when he slowly wrapped his unscarred arm around . Keefe smiled softly, pulling me close. We rested our bloodied arms in our laps, I leaned my head on his shoulder. We intertwined our soaked fingers.

  "One day, it'll all be over..For now, just know I'll always be here for you [YN]..No more cutting. If you do it again, I swear I'll break."He chuckled into my hair, closing his eyes.

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A/N|| Hm. This was..hard to write. Little trivia, wrote this with Keefe because I love Keefe and always wish he was there to save me from myself. I know how you guys feel. Let me just say: if they're not you, they shouldn't be so concerned with who you are, what you are, what you look like. So don't listen to anyone who calls you those names. Because who you are isn't killing them or killing you.