Chapter 1
Remember this. It’s okay to hurt. Don’t be afraid to reach out. To all the kids (and adults, because I know you’re out there too) who are slowly dying inside.
*Based on true events*
Once upon a time, there was a young child.
They were a happy kid.
Well...on the outside, at least.
On the inside, they were dying.
Every single night was a battle between how long they could make it and if they wanted to just leave it there.
There was something blue in their hand.
Every night, they sobbed, as that little blue item was tickling their skin.
That little blue item, I wonder, what is it?
They showed their friends that little blue item.
That stupid blue item.
It made everyone uncomfortable.
That little blue item, I wonder, what is it?
I noticed, once, a flash of red.
When the child pulled that little blue item out of their pocket.
That little blue item, I wonder, what is it?
Their bedsheets are doused with a color.
It used to be red.
It’s more of a maroon now.
Brown.
Months of something drying.
It is all because of that stupid blue item.
That little blue item, I wonder, what is it?
It’s been some time now, since I’ve seen that little blue item.
Maybe it’s reign of terror is over.
That little blue item, I wonder, what is it?
Oh.
The child has that little blue item again.
Their face is not sad.
Yet, I see their eyes.
Blank.
That little blue item, I wonder, what is it?
They are on a call.
Talking with their friend.
A daily check-in, I presume.
The child is muted.
Hmm.
How strange.
That little blue item, I wonder, what is it?
I see something new.
Something silver.
It’s touching the child’s wrist.
It’s coming from that little blue item.
That little blue item, I wonder, what is it?
There’s something.
A speck of red.
It’s a trickling, dotted line, running down the child’s wrist.
That little blue item, I think I know what it is.
The child unmuted themself, saying they had to go.
They hung up and threw their phone out of their bed.
They sobbed, that little blue item tracing their skin repeatedly.
That little blue item, I think I know what it is.
The child dug that little blue item into their skin.
Sobbing, their bedsheets became bright red.
That little blue item, I know what it is.
The child rid that little blue item of all that redness.
They hid that little blue item within their pillows.
That little blue item, I know what it is.
The child dimmed their night-light.
They pulled the covers up to their chin.
Sobbing into their pillows, they hugged their stuffie, wanting this to be over.
Eventually, they drifted off to sleep.
That little blue item, I know, I know what that stupid little blue item is.
And it won’t be coming back.
Not now.
Not ever.
THE END
