This might contain themes such as depression suicide, and possibly mild swearing.
I don’t feel okay. Every day I have to take my medication to soothe my stress. My friends help me out, but at the end of the day, I can’t stop thinking about how worthless I am. Every day feels the same, and I can’t stop hurting myself. It’s wrong, I know it’s wrong, but it’s the only thing that helps me cope with my past. I was hated, abused, useless. Why would anybody want a friend with all of these traits? After thinking about this, my phone buzzed. New Message – Echo. My friend, the one I had grown up with. I always loved him. I never thought of myself as being in love with him, but I can’t confess that. It would ruin everything. It would be awful for him to hear how his best friend of years would want to date him. I looked at the text message. “Hey. Me, Ping, Byte, and Alert are going to the park today. We’re soooo bored out of our minds and we want to go relax. You want to come with us?” I hesitated, thumb hovering over the keyboard. The thought of seeing them made my chest ache, a mix of warmth and fear. I wanted to say yes. I wanted to feel normal again, even for an hour. But another part of me whispered that I didn’t belong there. The phone buzzed again. “Echo – Are you okay?” I swallowed hard. I typed a reply, erased it, typed again. “Yeah, I’ll come.” The moment I hit send, regret washed over me.
The air outside felt too bright. When I met them at the park, everything looked normal, the trees swayed, the sound of traffic in the distance, birds chirping like nothing had changed. But there was something off. Echo waved when he saw me, his smile faint, like static in sunlight. “Hey! You made it.” Ping and Byte were already sitting on the grass, their phones out, laughter spilling between them. Alert leaned against a bench, scrolling through something I couldn’t see. For a moment, I almost believed I belonged there. But as I sat down, a strange quiet crept in. The air felt heavier, almost sticky, and the laughter around me slowed, stretching unnaturally. Ping’s smile flickered, like a glitch in a video game. Byte’s voice seemed to echo, repeating itself for a fraction too long. Even Alert leaned back on the bench in a way that didn’t feel right, too stiff, too deliberate. I rubbed my eyes. Maybe it was me. Maybe I was imagining it. But the shadows under the trees had grown darker, crawling along the grass toward me. My heart raced, and my stomach twisted. I could feel my pulse thumping in my ears, louder than the world around me. I tried to speak, to laugh along with them, but my voice came out wrong. High, trembling, like it belonged to someone else. They didn’t notice, they never looked at me, and suddenly, I realized that even my own hands didn’t feel like mine. Everything was wrong. The sun was too bright, the grass too sharp. The friends I’d loved for years seemed... distant, hollow. In that moment, I understood, it wasn’t them. It was me. Something inside me had shifted. Something that had been hiding behind smiles and medication, behind moments of pretending to be okay... it was awake now, and it didn’t care who saw. I swallowed, but my throat felt dry, tight, like a rope wrapped around my words. I tried to stand, but the world tilted beneath me. The laughter stretched again, echoing, folding into itself. I was screaming in my head, but my mouth made no sound. The world lurched violently in my mind, trees bending, laughter stretching, the grass rippling like liquid, and then, suddenly, it stopped. I was back. The sun was bright, normal. The grass beneath me didn’t move. My friends were there staring at me. Their faces were a mix of concern and confusion. “Hey... uh... are you okay?” Echo asked, his voice calm but worried. Ping leaned forward, eyebrows furrowed. “Dude, seriously, what the heck is going on with you?” Byte shifted on the grass. “You’ve been spacing out for like... forever. You just... froze.” Alert crossed his arms, looking at me like he wasn’t sure whether to be angry or scared. I swallowed, my throat dry. My chest ached, and my hands shook where they rested on my knees. Words felt heavy, like I was dragging them through tar. “I... I’m fine,” I whispered. But even I didn’t believe it. Echo crouched slightly, closer to me. “No, you’re not. Talk to us.” I wanted to. I wanted to tell them everything, about the pills, the thoughts, the way the world had warped around me. But I couldn’t. The words stuck, heavy and jagged, and I just sat there, trembling. They exchanged glances, concern flickering across their faces. “Everything’s okay, right? Tell me it’s okay.” Ping said gently. A part of me wanted to run, to hide, to disappear. My own mind felt like a stranger, a glitch I couldn’t repair. The air around me felt too heavy, pressing against my chest. Every sound, Echo’s voice, the birds, even the wind came at me like static. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. “I just... need to go,” I muttered, pushing myself off the ground. “Wait-” Echo started, standing up too, reaching toward me. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I turned away before I could see the look on his face. Before I could break even more. The walk turned into a jog, then into a run. My legs moved on their own, like I was trying to escape something no one else could see. The laughter and chatter behind me faded until there was nothing but the thud of my heartbeat and the crunch of gravel beneath my shoes. The world blurred at the edges, colors too bright, sounds too sharp. Every breath burned. My mind was screaming, whispering, repeating the same words over and “They’re worried about you.” “They’re tired of you.” “They hate seeing you like this.” “You ruin everything.” I stumbled into my house, slamming the door shut behind me. My heart wouldn’t slow down. I pressed my back to the door, sliding down until I was sitting on the cold floor. The silence hit me hard. I could still hear their voices in my head, echoes looping over themselves. My phone buzzed again, faint and distant on the table, probably them, asking if I was okay. But I couldn’t move to check. I didn’t want to see their names. The walls seemed closer than before. The air felt too thin. I reached for my medication bottle on the counter, it rattled, nearly empty. Just a few left. Not enough to last the week. For a moment, I thought about calling Echo. I thought about telling him everything. But the thought twisted, and I saw his expression in my head, pity, disappointment, disgust, and it made me feel smaller. “I’m fine,” I whispered to no one, clutching the bottle. “I’m fine.” But the house was quiet. And I knew it was lying to me.
I opened the door, letting the cool evening air brush against my face. The park wasn’t far. The sounds of distant laughter and footsteps should have reached me, grounding me. But... nothing. I walked along the path, half-expecting to see Echo waving, or Ping, Byte, Alert sitting on the grass. But the park was empty. The swings swayed slightly in the breeze, the benches sat abandoned, the sound of my own footsteps the only thing filling the quiet. My stomach twisted. Had I come too late? Had they left without me? I stopped in the middle of the path, looking around. The world seemed familiar and wrong at the same time. The trees stretched taller than they should have, shadows draped too long across the ground, and a cold shiver ran down my spine. My chest felt tight, but not the same panic as before, a different, heavier weight. I sank to a bench, hugging my knees to my chest. My phone rested on the bench, screen dark and unhelpful. I wanted to call them, text them, scream at them for leaving me alone, but what if they were really gone? What if it wasn’t me who had disappeared, but them? I breathed in, trying to steady myself, feeling the medication still pulsing quietly in my system. “It’s okay,” I whispered, more to convince myself than anything else. “It’s fine. They’re probably just... somewhere else.” But even as I said it, the emptiness around me felt too complete. Too absolute. I wasn’t alone in the park... but I could feel something watching. Something unseen, just at the edge of my vision. Then I saw it, My reflection. But it wasn’t just me. The figure looked taller, thinner, shadows curling around its shoulders like smoke. It tilted its head slightly, grinning in a way I didn’t. My stomach twisted, and I stumbled back a step, gripping a nearby tree for balance. “No... it’s fine,” I whispered to myself, breathing slowly. The pill was supposed to help, and it had calmed the panic. But the side effects... they were just warping my senses. I wasn’t afraid. Just... unsure. Unsteady. The park had become a place that was almost familiar, but not quite. I took another step forward. The echoes of laughter grew stronger, then faded, teasing me. I wasn’t imagining my friends completely, I knew they were out there somewhere, but I also couldn’t trust my senses. The trees bent slightly when I looked away, the shadows shifted when I blinked. A melody began to play inside my head. https://youtu.be/pTMYOgPnVuc It wasn’t a song I had ever heard before. It hummed softly, weaving in and out of my thoughts, repetitive, as if it had been composed for this very moment. Each note felt strange, almost creepy, curling around the empty park and threading itself through the echoes of my friends absent laughter. The shadows seemed to pulse with it, stretching and bending in ways my mind wasn’t sure were real. The path ahead wavered subtly, edges blurring, and the air itself seemed heavier with each measure. It was unsettling, but not outright frightening. Just... wrong. I shook my head, trying to focus on the path, on the trees, on the benches. My feet moved forward, slow and measured, grounding myself against the pull of the strange, haunting tune. When I stepped inside, the walls still stretched and twisted, the shadows crawling along them like they had a life of their own. That melody... it wouldn’t stop. It looped in my head, soft but relentless, and every note made the shadows twitch a little more. I sank to the floor, pressing my back to the wall. “Okay... just breathe,” I whispered. “It’s fine. It’s fine.” But my voice sounded strange, hollow, even to me. The corners of the room bent where they shouldn’t. The shadows moved again, curling toward me with the rhythm of that damn melody. “Stop... stop moving,” I muttered, trying to steady my shaking hands. “It’s not real. It’s not real. Just... calm down.” I had only one choice left to do. Razor...
I took the razor blade out of my drawer and began slicing my skin. I felt a bit of pain, the melody still played but slowly. As the room’s shadows stopped moving and the room didn’t feel so tight anymore, I felt a bit of relief I kept cutting, blood running down my arm, I began to start crying. After what seemed like an eternity to cutting, the music came to an end. Everything started becoming normal. I grabbed the bandage and wrapped myself completely up to make sure no more blood would splatter on the floor. My phone buzzed softly on the table. I hadn’t moved it for hours. My heart jumped. New Message – Echo: “Hey... Ping, Byte, Alert, and I are thinking about heading to the park again. Wanna hang out? We can come by your place first and walk there together!” The screen glowed in the dim room. I stared at it, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. My chest tightened, the familiar mix of dread and longing curling inside me. Ping: “Yeah, come with us! Don’t leave me behind again.” Byte: “We’ll bring snacks this time, promise.” Alert: “We really wanna see you. Just us, okay?” I stared at the messages, unsure if I could respond. Part of me wanted to run. Part of me wanted to hide. But another part, the part that still remembered how it felt to laugh with them, to belong, nudged me forward. I typed slowly, carefully, each letter deliberate: “Okay... yeah. I’ll get ready. See you soon.” I put the phone down, my hands still shaking slightly. The shadows on the walls no longer seemed threatening, but the room didn’t feel completely solid either. The melody from earlier hadn’t returned, but its echo lingered in my chest, like a reminder of everything I’d just gone through. A soft buzz from the phone made me look down again. Echo’s message blinked: “We’re on our way! Don’t worry, we’ll see you in a bit.” I exhaled slowly, steadying myself. Today, I wasn’t running away. Today, I wasn’t alone.
The soft buzz of the doorbell made my stomach tighten. My hands trembled as I opened the door. There they were, Echo, Ping, Byte, and Alert. All smiles, but careful smiles, the kind that said they knew I might still be fragile. Echo’s eyes immediately looked down to my arms. His smile faded. “Hey... what happened to your arm?” he asked gently, his voice soft but urgent. Ping stepped closer, concern written across her face. “Are you... okay? Did something happen?” I froze, suddenly aware of the bandages wrapped around my arms. My hands instinctively went to cover them, but the movement was slow, hesitant. “I... I’m fine,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. Byte glanced between Echo and Ping, frowning. “You’re shaking. And those bandages... you need to tell us what’s going on.” Alert stayed silent for a moment, just looking at me carefully. Then he said softly, “We just want to help. You don’t have to hide it from us.” I swallowed hard, my chest tight, and nodded slowly. “Okay... I’ll... I’ll tell you.” Even as I said it, I felt the weight of their concern pressing against me, heavy, but in a way that wasn’t entirely bad. Their worry reminded me that I wasn’t alone. “Some stray dog bit me when I was walking home the other night.” I said, barely audible. Ping frowned. “A dog? Did you go to a doctor?” “No, no. It’s fine. Just a small bite.” I held up my arm weakly, pretending to shrug it off. “It looks worse than it is.” Byte still looked doubtful. “You sure about that?” “Yeah,” I said quickly. “I promise. I’ve been cleaning it and everything.” There was an awkward silence, like they all knew I was lying but didn’t want to push it. Echo finally nodded, though his eyes told a different story, one of quiet disbelief and concern. “Alright.” he said softly. “But if it hurts, you tell us, okay?” I nodded, my throat tight. “Yeah... I will.” The lie burned in my chest, but it was easier than telling them the truth. Easier than watching their faces break. We stepped outside together, the cool evening air brushing against my face. I kept my hands tucked close to my chest, hiding the bandages as best I could, but their eyes kept flicking toward me, soft with concern. Echo stepped beside me. “You don’t have to say anything right now,” he said quietly. “Just... walk with us.” Ping and Byte flanked me on the other side, joking quietly to lighten the mood. Their laughter felt strange at first, faintly unreal. Alert walked slightly behind, scanning the streets, just keeping an eye out. The park wasn’t far, and step by step, the world felt less threatening. The shadows along the edges of the path still seemed to twitch, and the echo of that strange, unfamiliar melody lingered faintly in my mind. But with them beside me, it didn’t feel as sharp, as piercing. I could ignore it, just a little, and focus on the rhythm of our footsteps. Echo nudged me gently. “Hey... you made it here. That’s what matters.” I nodded, trying to believe it. “Yeah... I’m here,” I whispered. We reached the park entrance together. The swings swayed softly, the benches sat empty, and the fading sunlight painted the scene in warm tones. Nothing seemed frightening. Not yet. I let out a small, shaky breath. They were beside me. I wasn’t alone.
We found a patch of grass near the swings and sat down. The sunlight was fading, casting long shadows across the park, but it felt... softer somehow, less threatening. My chest still felt tight, but being surrounded by them made it bearable. Echo leaned back on his hands, looking up at the sky. “It’s nice out here,” he said quietly. “Feels like we haven’t done this in forever.” Ping pulled out a small bag of snacks, holding it up like a peace offering. “I brought something to make the walk worth it,” she said, grinning. Byte and Alert laughed, and the sound felt warm. I kept my hands tucked in my lap, my eyes scanning the park, alert for the smallest twitch or distortion. The strange melody from before whispered faintly at the edges of my mind, but it didn’t frighten me now. Instead, it felt like a pulse, a reminder that I was alive, that I was here, that I hadn’t completely lost myself. “Want some?” Byte said, nudging the snack bag toward me. I nodded and took a small handful, the simple gesture making my throat tighten. “I... I missed this,” I whispered, mostly to myself. “Being... around you all.” Echo glanced at me, eyes soft. “We missed you too. Don’t think you’re alone, okay?” Ping reached over, brushing a stray lock of hair from my forehead. “We’re here. You don’t have to do this alone anymore.” For the first time in a long while, I let myself believe it. The shadows along the edges of the park were still there, but they didn’t feel threatening. The melody’s faint pulse lingered, but it was almost comforting now, like it was keeping time with our footsteps, our laughter, the quiet rhythm of being together. I exhaled slowly and leaned back on my hands. My mind wasn’t fixed. But here, in this small park, with these people beside me, I could breathe.
For a while, it almost felt normal. The air was crisp, the park quiet except for the hum of crickets and the soft rustle of leaves. Echo was talking about some new game he’d found, Ping was laughing, and Byte and Alert argued over which of them could win in a race to the swings. I tried to laugh with them. I really did. But something inside me felt... off. Like a string pulling tighter and tighter behind my ribs. The warmth I’d felt earlier began to fade, replaced by that quiet static in the back of my mind. The melody was returning, faint, but clearer now, humming like it was just beneath the surface of everything. My smile faltered. “I... I think I should go,” I muttered, standing up a little too fast. Echo looked up immediately. “Go? We just got here.” “I just-” My throat tightened. “I don’t feel right. I think I need to lie down or something.” Ping’s expression softened with worry. “Signal, wait-” She reached out to steady me, and when her hand brushed my arm, the bandages slipped. The cloth slid down just enough for everyone to see. The silence was instant. Slash marks. Faded ones, some newer. Jagged lines across pale skin. Byte’s voice broke first. “Signal... what... what is that?” I jerked my arm back, fumbling to pull the bandage up again. “It’s nothing! I-It’s from the dog, remember? It clawed me when I tried to run away.” Ping shook her head slowly. “That’s not what a claw mark looks like.” Echo stood up beside me, hands half-raised like he didn’t want to scare me off. “Signal, you don’t have to lie. Please.” My heart pounded, and the melody was louder now, echoing through my skull like it was inside me. “I’m fine,” I said sharply. “I just... I just have to go.” I turned, gripping my bag tight, and started walking faster, until I was practically running. Their voices followed me, echoing through the park: “Signal, wait!” I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t. When I finally stopped, gasping for air at the edge of the street, I realized something was missing. My bag felt lighter. I looked down. the zipper half-open, the space inside empty. The journal. My heart sank. Somewhere back in the park, lying in the grass where I’d been sitting, was my journal, the one place I’d written everything. The truth about what I’d done. The truth about how much it hurt. I stood there, shaking, staring back toward the faint glow of the park lights. “They’ll know,” I whispered. “They’ll finally know.” Back in the park, Echo, Ping, Byte, and Alert had followed as far as they could. The bench where we had been sitting was empty now, except for a small object shining faintly in the last rays of sunlight. “Signal’s journal,” Ping whispered, bending down to pick it up. Byte carefully opened it, hesitating at the first page. The handwriting was messy, scribbled in bursts of emotion, some words crossed out, some underlined like they were screaming to be noticed. “It’s... he’s been... hurting himself,” Byte said quietly. Echo eyes scanning the pages, absorbing the fragments of truth. “This... this is why he lied about the dog. He didn’t want us to see.” Ping wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the evening air. “He’s been carrying all of this alone?” Alert closed his eyes, fists tightening. “No. He doesn’t have to anymore. We’re going to help him. Somehow.” The journal was filled with the raw edge of Signal’s mind: stress, anxiety, the spirals of self-doubt, and his struggle to cope. There were notes about the melody he sometimes heard, the shadows that seemed to move, and the nights he couldn’t stop thinking about hurting himself. Byte flipped through the pages gently. “He’s been so scared... he didn’t want anyone to know. But now we do. And we won’t let him do it alone.” Echo spoke softly, almost to himself, but loud enough for the others to hear. “We can’t let him stay alone. We have to go to him... but carefully. He’s fragile right now.” Ping’s voice wavered. “We can’t leave him... not like this.” Alert nodded, gripping the journal tightly. “We stick together. We bring him back. Safe this time.” They had the map to understand him, the journal, the evidence of his pain, and the determination to bring him back.
The walk to my house felt longer than usual, though I had run here only minutes before. My backpack felt heavier now, empty in one corner where the journal had slipped out. I tried not to think about it. When I opened the door, the room felt smaller than ever, the walls bending slightly at the edges. Shadows clung to the corners, but I told myself it didn’t matter. I just needed to... be alone. A knock at the door made me flinch. I froze. “Signal? It’s us,” Echo’s voice called softly. “We just... want to check on you. Can we come in?” I hesitated, swallowing hard. “I... I’m fine,” I said quietly, but the words felt hollow even to me. Ping stepped forward from behind him. “We saw the journal,” she said gently. “It’s okay. You don’t have to hide anymore.” My chest tightened. I wanted to scream, to tell them to leave, but something in their voices, quiet, steady, unwavering, made me pause. “Please,” Echo added, “let us in. We’re here for you, Signal. All of us.” Reluctantly, I stepped aside, letting them into the house. Byte and Alert followed quietly, their eyes soft, wary, and full of concern. They didn’t say anything else immediately. They just looked at me, giving me space, letting me choose what to say. I sank to the floor, on my knees, the shadows creeping along the walls as my heart pounded. I wanted to disappear into them. I wanted to run again. But Echo sat down beside me, careful not to crowd me. “It’s okay to be scared,” he said softly. “You’re not alone.” Ping knelt on the other side. “We’re not going anywhere. We just... want to help. You don’t have to do this by yourself anymore.” I wanted to speak, to explain everything, the stress, the fear, the quiet pull toward harming myself. But the words stuck in my throat. Instead, I nodded slightly, barely audible. Byte handed me a bottle of Bloxy Cola. “Take a breath. One at a time. That’s all we’re asking.” I took it, letting the cold soda settle my stomach. I could hear their quiet presence around me, a shield against the twisting shadows and the faint echo of the melody in my head. For the first time that evening, I realized that maybe, just maybe, I could stay stable. Maybe, with them here, the walls wouldn’t feel so suffocating. Maybe, I wouldn’t have to face the darkness alone. And for the first time, I let myself believe that maybe I could be okay. We sat in my room, the air quiet except for the faint hum of the lights. The shadows still clung to the corners, but they no longer felt as sharp, as threatening. My friends had spread out around me, Echo on the floor beside me, Ping leaning against the wall, Byte perched on the edge of my bed, and Alert standing near the door, keeping watch. Ping finally broke the silence. “Do you want to talk about the journal?” she asked softly, nodding toward the small leather book in her hands. I swallowed hard. The pages held all of my secrets, every weight I had carried alone. Part of me wanted to snatch it up, hide it again. But their calm faces, the way they had followed me here, made me hesitate. “I... I don’t know if I can,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “That’s okay,” Echo said gently. “You don’t have to read it out loud. Just... let us be here with you. That’s enough for now.” Byte smiled faintly. “We just want you to know you’re not alone. And that we’ll help you handle whatever’s in there... together.” Alert nodded, folding his arms. “You don’t have to fix everything at once. Small steps are okay.” I looked around at them, their concern soft but unwavering, and felt a warmth I hadn’t noticed in weeks. The shadows in the corners of my room seemed to shrink a little, the faint pulse of the melody fading to a quiet whisper. I reached slowly for the journal, picking it up and holding it against my chest. “Maybe... someday,” I said. “But not right now.” “That’s fine,” Ping said, smiling. “Whenever you’re ready, we’ll be here.” And for the first time that evening, I let myself lean back, relax just a little. I didn’t feel completely safe, didn’t feel completely okay, but I felt seen, and that, somehow, was enough to let me breathe. The night stretched on around us, quiet, calm, with the soft presence of my friends keeping the shadows at bay.
The room stayed quiet, but it no longer felt oppressive. My friends moved around gently, talking in soft tones about small, ordinary things, a funny story from Byte, a memory Ping shared from school, Echo’s observations about the sunset, Alert quietly joking about their own clumsy antics. I listened, half-smiling, half-absorbing the sound of normalcy. It was almost surreal after everything I’d felt earlier, but their presence made the edges of my fear blur. Echo nudged me lightly. “Hey, you don’t have to stay in one place all night. Want to step outside for a little while? Just around the yard?” I hesitated, then nodded. The air outside was cool, the shadows gentler, the world quieter than the racing thoughts in my head. For a moment, I felt... normal. Not completely, but enough to take one careful step at a time. Ping stayed close, laughter and conversation played into the evening air, soft and steady. Even the faint pulse of the melody that haunted me before now felt distant, almost comforting in its quiet rhythm. I realized that I didn’t have to fight my fears alone. I had them, my friends, and that was enough. For now. The next day, I made it to the pharmacy and refilled my medication. The familiar bottle in my hand was a small anchor, a reminder that I had the tools to help myself stay steady. When I returned home, my friends were there again, waiting with quiet smiles and gentle jokes. We spent the afternoon together, playing games, talking, and laughing. The shadows and the strange melody were gone, or at least, they no longer held power over me. I looked at Echo, Ping, Byte, and Alert and felt something I hadn’t felt in weeks... hope. Maybe even happiness. For the first time in a long while, I believed it. I was not alone. I was seen, I was cared for, and I could get through this one day at a time. And with them by my side, everything was going to be okay.
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