ʀᴇᴅ ʟɪɴᴇs (ᴛᴏᴍᴍʏɪɴɴɪᴛ)

                                    

                                          
. 
. 
. 
                          
He didn't mean to do that. 
Now everyone would know the truth. 
                          
Why didn't he switch accounts?
                          
/ / / /
                          
Tommy sat on the grey covers of his bed, scrolling through his Twitter indirects. He knew that it was bad for him, but he just couldn't bring himself to stop.
                          
Tommy is so annoying. 
                          
How do people actually find Tommy funny?
                          
Tommyinnit makes me cringe!
                          
Tommy should stop streaming on the SMP, he steals all the attention. 
                          
Tommy ignores his friends. 
                          
He doesn't deserve what he has. 
                          
Tommy bit his lip. He wasn't sure if he wanted to crack a smile or shed a tear. He believed every word they said. These were all his faults. For these imperfections, he punished himself. He needed it more than air. Each cut he made on his pale skin had a purpose. It was intoxicatingly addictive. He'd never felt a release so sweet. 
                          
He'd lie awake late into the night, attempting to control the deep and surging urges. It was a feeling he couldn't describe, the pain was special, and his blood was.. beautiful. But he truly did it for the scars. Each one reminded him of why he was doing this.
                          
He loved them. 
                          
Each one reminded him of how annoying he was. Everyone hated him. He ignored his friends. No wonder they didn't care.
Yet here he sat, slitting his skin just like the attention-seeking bitch he was. He didn't deserve what he had. 
Twitter was always right.
                          
Another. 
And another.
                          
He was concentrating, but he knew he'd soon be ecstatic and giddy. 
He loved his razor. It was always there for him. 
                          
Deeper.
Cut further.
                          
He sighed, satisfied. He felt so proud of himself. These were going to make beautiful scars. He looked at them with wonder in his eyes.
                          
His beautiful, 
red lines. 
                          
He needed to show everyone how wonderful they were. He began to feel droopy as the pain caught up to him, barely able to keep his footing. But he couldn't sleep now. He needed the world to know. To see. 
                          
He took a picture. He admired it. He wished they could be forever. He'd make sure they would be. 
                          
Without much thought, he attatched the picture to his tweet under the hastag #shtwt. (see a/n)
                          
And he posted it for all to see. 
                          
He was content... until hundreds upon thousands of replies starting seeping in. 
He realised what he'd done. The profile picture of his own TommyInnit account seemed to mock him. 
                          
He felt feint, he couldn't breathe. This was never supposed to happen. His hands shook as he hastily tried to delete the image but the damage was done.
                          
His beautiful cuts would be forever. 
It's what he wanted, innit? 
                          
/ / / /
                          
WC : 454
                          
a/n : 
I recommend that no one reading this goes to that hashtag (even out of curiosity), it's very triggering... stay safe, please and thankyou :]
                          
Also, I'm in the middle of writing a part two (with wilbur, hurt/comfort kinda vibes).
This chapter is kinda short too, so I may combine them.
                          
Comments are very much appreciated! :]
Stay awesome, lovies! <3