I Can Stop the Bleeding

I do not own Kingdom Hearts or it's characters.

Rated M for language, cutting, and possibly sex in later chapters.


A blonde teen was walking the streets. Hands in his pockets. Whistling. Looking like he didn't have a care in the world. He had spiky blonde hair, cyan blue eyes, and a baby face. He didn't look it but he was 15 years old. His life was about to change forever.

I wish I could forget, but you just can't up and forget something like that. This memory will be forever engraved into my mind.

I was walking home. I vaguely recalled my mom telling me to come straight home after school. I didn't. Instead I stopped into Oblivion Games to buy a new video game. I was gonna rub this in Hayner's face. He couldn't wait to play the game I bought.

When I came upon my house, I realized the driveway was empty. Dad must not be home yet. Probably being kept late at the office. I stepped inside.

"I'm home!"

No one answered. Mom must be out back gardening. I ran upstairs and threw my book bag and new game onto my bed, before heading back downstairs.

I went into the kitchen and grabbed a can of coke from the fridge. The sound of the tab snapping open sounded eerily throughout the kitchen.

I made my way down the hallway. I was gonna step out on the back patio and talk to mom. Half way down the hallway I realized the TV in the living room was on.

Now this may seem like a normal thing, but to me it stood out. My mom rarely watches TV, and she would never leave it running if no one was watching it.

Before I turned into the living room, I noticed that the patio door was open. The curtains were billowing into the house. The patio was empty. Where's mom?

Something was wrong. I could feel it. I turned into the living room and time froze.

The can of coke dropped from my hand. I didn't hear it drop. My eyes widened in disbelief. My mouth was agape in horror.

My mom was sprawled out on the living room floor. Her long blonde hair was matted and covering her face. She was lying in a pool of blood. I could see a gaping wound in her chest.

"Mom?" It was hopeless. I knew she wouldn't answer. I would never hear her voice again.

"Mom!" I kept trying. I ran to her side and fell to my knees. "Mom! Say something! Mom!"

I was sobbing at this point. How could she be dead? I was just talking to her this morning? Why her?

I reached out to grab her hand. She was still warm. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I should be calling the police. I didn't move.

I just continued to hold her hand and cry. I heard the front door.

"Roxas? Jodi?" Dad! I still didn't move. I heard his footsteps. He was heading for the living room. I stayed motionless.

"Oh God!" He had found me holding onto my dead mother's hand. I heard shuffling. I should've been curious. I wasn't. I was uncaring. Numb.

"I h-have an emergency. M-my wife…she's… she's on the ground bleeding. I…I think she's…been stabbed." It was pointless. She was dead. Lifeless. Gone.

I felt my dad's hands on my shouler's. I didn't react.

"Roxas? I think you should move. The police will be here soon."

My dad was crying. His hands were trembling. I had never seen my dad lose his composure. His composure was gone. Like Mom.

He attempted to help me up. Now I figure he was looking for comfort with his son. At the time I didn't care. I shrugged him off.

"Go away." My voice cracked. I had cried so much. I heard a knock at the door.

"Police." I heard my dad leave the room to answer the door. I stayed kneeling, holding my mom's hand. It was starting to lose some of its warmth.

Firm hands grasped my shoulders.

"Come on son. You have to move away from the body." I didn't recognize the uncaring voice. I snapped.

"No! I can't leave her! She needs me! That's not a body! That's my mom!" I was sobbing.

My dad wrapped me in his arms. He walked me to my room. I fought him every step of the way.

He was crying. I was crying. When we got to my room I shut him out and locked myself inside. I crawled into my bed. I curled myself into a ball. Fetal position. I had heard it made you feel safe. It was a bunch of bull shit.

Two hours later Dad knocked on my door. I ignored him.

"Roxas? Can I come in? Please?" His voice was hoarse from crying. Like mine.

I wasn't sure if I remembered how to walk. I managed. I unlocked the door and went back to my bed.

Dad came in and sat next to me. He put his arm around me.

"They police say it happened an hour before you found her. They're pretty sure they'll catch the guy. He will suffer the consequences."

It meant nothing to me.

"Catching the guy isn't gonna bring Mom back. Nothing will."

Dad started trembling again.

"I know Rox. I know. We will get through this though. She would want us to be strong. We have to be strong for her Rox. Promise me?"

I numbly nodded my head. What did that mean? To be strong?

"I'm gonna order a pizza."

Dad left. I thought about what he had said. 'They police say it happened an hour before you found her.'

An hour before I found her? I cringed.

I knew exactly where I was. I was at Oblivian Games buying a fucking video game! If I hadn't gone I might've been able to stop it from happening.

Deep understanding filled my mind. It was my fault. All my fault.

I sprinted into my adjoining bathroom. I threw up. I heaved my guts up. When I was done, I sat down and leaned against my bathtub.

I saw something glint out of the corner of my eye. Sitting on the edge of my sink was my razor. I had no need for one. I had zero facial hair. Dad had given it to me on my last birthday.

'You're 15 now Roxas. You're a man now. Every man needs a razor. Even hairless men.'

It had been a joke. I stood up and walked over to the sink.

I picked the razor up and weighed it in my hands. The blade mesmerized me.

I pushed my right sleeve up to my elbow. I touched the blade to my forearm.

I shivered. The blade was cold.

I steadily drug the instrument across my skin. I hitched my breath at the pain, but then I felt release.

I no longer felt any pain. I watched the scarlet drops slide down my arm.

"Roxas! Food's here!"

I quickly grabbed a wad of toilet paper, wetted it, and padded at the wound I inflicted. I threw a bandage over it and pulled my sleeve back down.


That was two weeks ago. Every night since then I cut myself before I went to bed.

This was how I was dealing with my Mom's death.

Dad and I were in a moving truck, driving to our new home.

We both couldn't stay in that house any longer. There were too many memories. Too much pain.

We stayed long enough to hold the funeral.

It made me sick.

People telling me how sorry they were. Telling me how great of a person she was.

I wanted to scream at them that they didn't know jack shit about my mom. I didn't. For Dad.

My good behavior was all for Dad. I didn't want him to worry. I wanted him think that I was okay. That I would be okay.

Thankfully he wasn't very observant. No questions were asked when I suddenly started wearing wrist bands. He probably figured it was a new fashion trend. I didn't give a shit about fashion. I was just hiding my scars.

If Dad saw those he would send me to a shrink. I didn't need some old person trying to probe into my thoughts and feelings. I just needed release.

I wasn't crazy. I was just dealing in the only way that helped. Cutting.

I wasn't suicidal. I would never kill myself. I would never do that to Dad. It's just that instant of feeling painless made me feel like everything was going to be okay.

I didn't know how or why. I didn't care. I just liked the feeling it gave me.

Everything's going to be okay.

We pulled into the driveway of our new house. I took it in. It was a small one story house. Just right for a family of three- no two. Only two.

I walked into the house. As you stepped into the entry way, the living room was on your left while the kitchen and dining room were on your right.

Straight ahead was the hallway that would lead to the two bedrooms. Both rooms had an adjoining bathroom; something I was very thankful for.

It would've been very hard to hide my secret if I had to share a bathroom with Dad.

I went back outside and started helping Dad move our stuff into the house.

It took us two hours to get everything out of the truck and into the house. Then it took us another three hours to get everything put away and where we wanted it.

We were sitting in the living room eating a pizza. Take out had become a regular thing.

Dad couldn't cook to save his life. That was Mom's area of expertise. I was a decent cook. Mom had taught me how. I wouldn't cook though. I was shying away from anything that reminded me of her.

"You start school tomorrow Rox. It's a few bl-…" I interrupted him.

"Don't worry Dad. I'll find it." I continued eating my pizza. He shot me a half smile.

"I know bud. You'll do just fine."

Our conversations always felt forced now. When will things go back to normal?

I finished my last slice, downed my mountain dew, and stood up.

"Good night Dad."

"Night Rox."

I made my way down the hallway to my bedroom. It was slightly larger than my old one.

Boxes of my stuff were pushed up against the walls. My bed was placed in the far corner with my desk sitting next it. My dresser was against the wall opposite my bed. The closet was next to it. The next door opened up into my bathroom.

I started digging through my boxes looking for one thing in particular. My razor.

It was in the bottom of the third box I started sifting through. I walked into my bathroom.

I pulled my wristband off and admired all the tiny scars. I held my arm over the sink and proceeded to run the blade over the delicate skin. I breathed a sigh of relief.

I hadn't cut myself last night. My razor had been packed away with everything else. I thought I was going into withdrawal.

That all went away as the blade brought forth my blood. I let the wound bleed its course, before bandaging it.

I walked back into my bedroom. I wasn't tired, but my computer, TV, and Xbox were still in their boxes.

I'll set those up tomorrow after school.

I sighed in defeat. With nothing else to do I might as well go to bed. So I changed into some sweats, set the alarm on my phone, plugged my charger into the phone, and collapsed onto my bed.

I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling. In my old room I would make shapes in the ceiling if I couldn't sleep. Not here. The ceiling here is perfectly smooth and flat.

I just stared into nothingness until finally, sleep overcame me.

So that's the start of the story!

Poor Roxas.

If this offends anyone in any way I apologize.

Please review. I wanna know what you guys think.