He fakes the smile on his face. He fakes the bounce in his steps. He fakes the enthusiasm and happiness around his friends. He fakes the happy thoughts when he wants time to end.
They don’t ask him anymore. He use to go to them for everything. He use to say what was on his mind. Someone, that one, would know everything that went on around him and with him, with time…but not this time.
He silently screams for help but no one hears. He knows no one hears him; a part of him doesn’t want anyone to listen. He is scared to make a single sound. After everything he’s gone through, he sometimes doesn’t want to be found.
He sits in the dark. He watches as blood leaks from his skin. He runs his hands over the scratches along his legs. He grabs at his hair and screams silently into the empty space in front. But no one hears, because these screams are only in his head.
He imagines people seeing through his mask. He pictures countless ways of them convincing him to let them help. He wants to let them, but he needs to be convinced. He wants to believe someone cares and someone loves him – like he once thought – but he needs to be convinced. He needs to feel it again. He needs to feel he has worth and his life is worth living.
Until then, he will continue to scream. He will continue to not make a sound. He will continue to wait, until he cannot anymore, until he can’t take it anymore.
Then…he won’t be able to make a sound.