Charlie sat on the toilet cover seat. His breathing moved inwards, rapidly. The signs of emotional distress was protruding it's way to the surface like it hasn't done in years. That was when he escaped to the bathroom. He couldn't handle his father's worried glances, and Don's repeating's of "are you okay's.
No he wasn't okay! A kid fucking DIED and it was all his goddamned fault. All because math system failed him. Failed all of them. He saw the shaving kit, and swallowed as he took out the small shaving blade. It's been so long, and he had stopped. The scars were still there, albeight from far off. But they were enough reminders to Charlie of his own dark times that he hid so well from everyone, even his mother. She was the hardest to hide things from.
Just one tiny prick,though...Couldn't hurt. He swallowed, and a shiver went through is body.
Don't do it...
And yet the blade looked so damned tempting. It hurt too much, his emotions. He couldn't control them. When that happened he went to his math, but now even his math failed him. He stilfed back a sob as he placed the blade on his arm, near an old scar. He knew where to cut. He was being from the veins was the way to do it. He didn't want to kill himself. He just wanted IT to stop.
He shuddered as he took deep breathes, and pressed the blade down. A sigh escaped his lips. A sigh of relief. He watched, fascinated as blood dripped from his tiny wound.
"Chuck? You okay in there?" He tensed at Don's voice. "Chuck, we've been getting worried, you've been in there for twenty minutes." The voice was sharp and demanding.
Just SHUT up Don, just shut up and let himself THINK. Or not think is the actual reasoning behind all of this.
If he spoke now he would lose the concentration. It would all be over. He wouldn't have the nerve to do it again.
"Damn it, Chuck, if you don't open this door!"
Fear had lodged in his brother's voice.
It's okay Donnie, Charlie thought as he pressed the blade on his skin again. Soon the emotions will stop and I'll be able to talk again. He jumped when he heard a gun go off. Don was firing the locks.
"Don!" He heard his father's voice. "What the hell?!"
SHIT, no his dad can't see him like this! Charlie was shaking, frozen in fear as the blade cut his skin. Don kicked the door. Don stood there, in utter horror as he saw Charlie with the blade.
"Chuck,what the hell do you think you're doing?"
"I'm just...I'm trying to make it stop. Go away, Don, you're ruining it!"
Charlie saw intense fear reside on Don's face.
"Charlie, just drop the blade, okay?"
Charlie shook his head.
"You...you don't understand, Don. I have to make It stop. This is how to make It stop!"
"Charlie!" Alan's voice could be heard behind Don, but Don was all Charlie could see. Tears spilled in his eyes.
"Just...just let me finish this. I don't want to kill myself, Don, you know that."
"Yeah, yeah I do know that." Charlie knew that voice. It was the voice Don used to talk to prisoners out of doing something crazy. He wasn't doing something crazy. This was doing something rational.
"Look, man, if we just leave the bathroom maybe we could go over some math problems or something." Charlie sensed how utterly lost Don seemed in this area. Charlie gave a scoff.
"Math is why I'm here, Don!"
"Chuck, I don't understand-"
"My math failed me. It failed that kid!"
"I'm calling 911" That was Alan's voice, shaking.
"Dad, don't!" Don ordered. "I'm having this under control, we don't want to scare him!"
"Don't TALK to me like I'm not in the damn room!" Anger rose up in Charlie's body. He still clutched the blade.
"Okay, okay, look I'm sorry man-we're not going to do anything rash...we're...wer're just gonna take it nice and slow, okay, Chuck?" Begged Don. "Please, you don't...want to do more of it." Charlie watched as Don soaked up the sight of the old welted scars. He watched as the realization sllammed Don hard.
"Fuck, Charlie, I'm so sorry...Why... though?"
Charlie was shaking now. The blade was dangerously close to a vein He had to move it further down. He just needed that one more CUT and then things would be in control. Didn't Don understand that?"
"Please, Charlie," his father begged. When Charlie finally looked at him he saw Alan with tears roling down his face. "Please, listen to Donnie."
"Come on, Chuck," whispered Don, using that self soothing voice of his he used to use when they were kids. "Put down the blade, you don't want to do this." He repeated that mantra until Charlie felt too weak to argue, and complied. The blade dropped, and so did he.
His knees buckled as he folded into a fetal position, sobbing. He felt Don lung for the blade, but didn't budge. He then felt his brother pull Charlie up into a kneeling position, and grab him into a tight hug.
That was when Charlie finally released all of it. Alan stood there, hand over mouth, as he watched his sons rock back and forth, wondering how the hell they would move on from all of this.