I open my eyes, I sit up on my bed, I can feel the blood slowly drip off my arm. Its warm I thought, looking at the fresh, clean cuts I inflicted with my razor. I breath in slowly and then exhale, the pain is a lot but bearable. I look up and I see him, sitting on the floor, his tail slowly moving back and forth back and forth like a black snake. Lion, he had been sitting there watching me, his round, blank eyes unblinking, but I didn´t mind. He always watched me when I cut.
I move to the side of my bed, his eyes follow, his muscles moving under his fur. The only sound in my room is of the rain hitting the pane of my window, calming, soothing. I see Lion move closer, his matted black fur moving in odd ways, almost like the waves of the sea. Soon his head is resting on my bed, his eyes filled with no emotion. “Ah Lion” I sighed, putting my hand in his mane “How can I get rid of you?” I was met with silence and the thoughts of my own mind. I know I couldn’t get rid of him, he was my depression. The only way to get rid of him was to end it all, the thought of that sent a shiver down my mind.
I quickly pushed that thought to the back of my mind. I soon continued petting Lion, his fur moving with ease through my fingers and his blank expression forming into what seemed to be a grin.
It started three years ago when I saw Lion for the first time, he was messing up my bedding, he had a grin of approval on his grayish pale wrinkled face. Later I soon realized that no one could see or hear him, just I. He was mine and mine alone to bare.He would follow me everywhere, to the park, to my bf’s house, everywhere. It was only when I was happy or enjoying myself he would not follow. He would wait for me, patiently, quietly.
Soon a year later he started to leave razors and rope he would find on my bed. This scared me even terrified me at times, I feared if my mother found any of this in my possession I would go to a counselor. I didn’t want to go to a counselor so, I hid the “presents” from Lion under my mattress. I soon started to give in and slowly I started to cut my arms, leaving scars all over. I’ve been doing it since, Lion always watched me. No one new except Atticus, my bf and only friend.
The forced nudged from Lion brought me back from thought, I looked at him and I felt hurt, alone, and helpless. I patted Lion’s head and looked at him, I reached under the mattress. The blood from my arm had dried and started to rub off on my covers. I grabbed a small, sharp razor from beneath the mattress, sharper than the one I used to cut my arm. I softly ran my finger across the sharp end of the blade. I felt a sharp pain in my finger and soon saw blood drip from my finger’s tip. Lion looked in satisfaction, his head lifting softly from the bed.
Soon I stood up and put on my red sweatshirt, covering my cuts from mother and hiding the razor easily in my pocket. Lion followed me down the stairs and through the living room, through the kitchen, and to the back yard, his stride slow and steady.
It was still raining, pouring in fact, making the snow turn to a grey slush under our feet. The rain softly hits my hood, quickly soaking me and Lion. He didn’t seem to mind. I lifted the sleeve of the arm that had the many cuts from earlier this morning, the cuts a vibrant red in the rain. I pulled out the small razor from my pocket and looked at it closely, it’s fine blade shining in the rain. It was almost beautiful. I put it at the bottom of my wrist and looked at Lion, his body soaking wet, his grey pale horns and wrinkled face looked almost, sad. It was a new expression from my depression himself.
I smiled and softly ran the razor across my wrist, it’s blade easily cutting through my flesh. Soon blood started falling, pitter patter on the wet grass and slushy snow with the rain. I put the razor within my pocket and covered my wrist with my other hand, my eyes welling up with tears. I looked at Lion and he looked back at me and for the first time, I saw myself in his eyes, his always blank. I didn’t say a word but then I smiled at him, tears going down my red cheeks. I lifted my hand from my bloody wrist and softly put it on Lion’s face, his face was rough and old, almost like sandpaper. I felt lightheaded and my hand slowly slid of his face, my legs soon buckling underneath me. I felt the embrace of the wet ground beneath me, meeting my body halfway. My vision started to blur, red on the snow, the silhouette of Lion above me, the cold grey sky above me. I took a slow inhale of the cold winter air, and I slipped from conciseness into the dark.
I stand over the body of the child named Tyler, his body wet and crumpled on the ground. I don’t know if I’m sad, for I am only depression. Nothing else. I turn and walk to the fence, quickly jumping the fence. Today I shall haunt another, and hopefully they’ll save me and their self.
