Tim sighed, shaking his head as he answered, placing a hand on the crook of his arm again. He rubbed the area with his hand  little as he spoke, feeling the slightly raised areas in his skin underneath his sweater.

"Ah...w-well... my dad, he...um, he got killed. Um, in a car crash. He was driving to the hospital that night, um, because I was being born. There was a rainstorm and, well...yeah. So it was just me, and my mother. She was... she wasn't... she was not mentally stable. She... neglected me, she didnt care for me... she [i]blamed me[/i] for his death. Told me that if I hadn't been born, he would still be alive..."

Tim was staring down at his plate of food, which he wasn't touching anymore. His voice got softer.

"So, uh... you can imagine... um, you can imagine how t-that would effect a child growing up... hearing stuff like that every single day. Being called worthless, horrible. It effected my social life. I was such a fucking introvert. I didnt have friends. Oh, but I was fucking [i]great[/i] at schoolwork, that's all the guidance counselors noticed. That's how [i]they[/i] knew I was okay."

"She... abused me. Physically. She hit me a lot. A...a lot. She threw things... she um...s-she... s-so... I decided to end it."

His voice cracked a little bit. He paused for a moment, took in a deep breath, exhaled, and continued.

"There I was, this... this eighteen year old [i]child[/i] who had no friends, no father...nothing. I decided that I couldn't go on like that. I decided it really was my fault. I decided that I was the one who killed my father. And so one night...oh, one night, I filled up a bathtub. I got in... I took a razor that I had... b-bought, from some dollar store... and I cut into my arm... both arms. And I felt blood. And things were blurring and I realized I [i]didn't want to die.[/i]"

His voice caught in his throat for a moment. He made himself continue.

"And there I am, bleeding out... and I can feel myself...dy...and I pass out. And I wake up in this hospital bed, and my mother is there, and she... I thought maybe she would... fucking... maybe she would finally realize how fucking [i][b]shitty[/b][/i] she had been... and she starts... she starts screaming at me. She starts berating me. She tells me that I'm a disappointment, asked how I could do this to her on the fucking [i]holidays[/i] and that I didn't care about all the sacrifices she made for me to live but I [b]wasn't ever fucking living.[/b]"

He wiped at a single tear that he found rolling down his face. He continued.

"I... I graduated a month later. I got a full ride to Nottingham University because I wrote a g-good paper. I left my mother, I I fucking [i]ran[/i] from my mother. I... I never made friends... in college... I was too scared to talk to anyone. I spent all of my life... just... alone. I got a job doing what I do because I'm good at it and I dont need to... see people, physically... I just... I always hear her. It's what I... I dream about it, I have nightmares about it! Almost every night! I take the medications so I don't hear her in my head and that doesnt even always work... I'm so... I'm just..."

Tim struggled to find the words for a moment.

"I'm scared... and I'm messed up... because [i]she[/i] messed me up...a-and... she never went away, even when I left. And that isn't fair... it's my life... it's my life... a-and... and she's [i]still[/i]..."

He cut off, unable to finish. He was gripping hard at his arm now, the was all throughout the story. He was done. He couldn't say more about it if he wanted to. A few more tears went down his face, silently. He didnt do anything to stop them this time.