*A/N: This is my first "Modern Family" fanfiction, so the characters might be OOC (out of character). Hopefully not to much, though. And please, nobody try any of this, it can really mess a person up. Believe me. Also, the words in Italics are Mitchell's thoughts.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own "Modern Family" or any of the characters.


Mitchell sat on the bathroom floor with the razor blade in his hand and his sleeve rolled up. His eyes followed the silver and pink scars up his arm as well as the new and healing cuts. If Cameron knew, I don't think he'd be able to take it. He'd probably leave me.

Mitchell had been cutting for almost 2 years now. It helped him deal with everything. Cutting helped him deal with his life. Not being accepted, etcetera. Somedays, he felt like he was going to break down. But cutting made Mitchell feel a sense of relief.

Mitchell put the blade on he wrist. Slowly sliding it across while pushing in the blade lightly, he felt the familiar sting of pain. The crimson liquid flooded out of the fresh cut. The strong, familiar urge to cut again took over him. Mitchell pressed the sliver blade to his wrist and cut again. Those two cuts turned into 6 cuts quickly and the six turned to 14. Blood ran down Mitchell's wrist. He picked up the blood stained, once-white rag and held it against his wrist. What had triggered this one was Mitch's thinking. He was thinking about the horrible things that had happened to him, like his father not accepting who he was.

Suddenly, Mitchell heard a door shut and keys drop onto the table.

"Mitchell?" Cam's voice rang out.

Shit! "Hang on!" Mitchell shouted back.

Mitchell yielded the bleeding to stop fairly quickly; it was kind of sad how fast he could do it. And he did such a good job of disposing the evidence; this secret was his to keep. The secret of him cutting. He splashed cold water on the fresh cuts and rolled down his sleeve. He put the razor in the bloody rag, folded it up and stashed it under the sink where nobody would look. Checking around the bathroom to see if he missed anything (which he didn't), he opened the door and stepped out.

"Hi, Mitch." Cam greeted when he saw him. He sat down on the couch.

Mitchell only managed to smile through his pain- both physical and emotional.

Cam looked at Mitchell, confused. Lately, he had been withdrawn and quiet. Almost like he was depressed.

"Is everything okay?" Cam asked.

No, I was just in the bathroom cutting. Again.

Should I tell him?

At the thought of that, horrible scenarios of how Cameron might take the news of Mitchell's self injury flooded his mind.

No. I'm fine.

"I'm fine, everything's okay." Mitchell lied as he sat down on the couch, too.

Liar.

"Are you sure? You've been really quiet these past couple of weeks." Cam pointed out.

"Cam, I'm fine. There's just been...a lot of..stuff..going on at work." Mitchell made up another lie. In fact, work was the one place things were okay.

Cameron believed him and he nodded. "Okay, but if you ever need to talk, I'm here."

I can't talk to you. I'm afraid you won't listen. You won't understand.

Mitchell just nodded slightly, "I know. Thank you."