Here is my quick little one-shot. As some of you know, I'm friends with "Speed-bumps" as we call them. The rest of the world abuses them, calling them "Cutters" and "Emo". Well, I don't. We came up with the name "Speed-bumps" because it's only been a phase. I, personally, am not a "Speed-bumps". But what you see in this story is stuff I've seen all to many times.

Cutter. Emo. Suicidal. Mental. I've been called them all. I've been looked down on, laughed at, yelled at, sent away. No one realizes how much more I've felt the need. Therapy didn't work. Doesn't work. Won't work. I don't need to talk. I don't need to be attacked. Not again. I won't be.

..oo..00..oo..00..

"Dang." I hissed, making cuts along my wrist. "This never gets easy." I made a final slit and dropped the knife. My clenched eyes re-opened, my shallow breathing, normal. "Hmmm." I sighed, lying back on my bed and holding my wrist up. Finally, the good part. Watching the blood cover my palm, trickle down my fingers, and drip off onto the floor. It made the pain worth while. Then a thought hit me: 'What am I doing?' I groaned and sat up, knowing what I needed to do.

I got off my bed and wandered over to the bathroom, hoping to find a tissue or something. When I did, I applied terrible pressure to my wrist, grimacing at the pain. After several minutes, I took the now-bloody tissue off and threw it out. Then I wrapped up my self-inflicted wound and took the tissue-filled box to my room, wiping up the blood that spattered on the floor.

With my dirty deed done, I sat at my computer and typed. I wrote message after message to my friends, seeing if anyone was on or wanted to video chat. Of course, just like my luck, they weren't.

..oo..00..oo..00..

"Danny! Danny stop!" Sam's voice called desperately. "You don't know what you're doing!"

"Shut up, Sam." I hissed, holding the knife to my thigh. "I know exactly what I'm doing." I sliced the first layer of skin, bringing out the maroon color I loved to hate so much.

"Danny! Please! Don't you realize how much we love you?" she pounded frantically on my door, working at the locked knob.

"It doesn't matter!" I hissed back, making more cuts. "No one else does! My parents don't, my teachers don't, I don't!"

"How can you say that!" she pounded harder on my door. "I love you! Tucker loves you! You can't just give up!"

"Oh I can't? My parents hate Phantom! If only they knew it was me…" I cut deeper and harder. "They can never know!" I hissed, tears gathering in my closed eyes. My grimace became deeper, turning into all-out hate. "No one loves me!"

..oo..00..oo..00..

"Ha! Fenturd went on a cutting spree again!" Dash pointed at me maniacally.

My mouth worked into an angry frown, and my fists tightened. "Dash! Knock it off!"

"Why should I, Emo?" Dash laughed evilly, gripping his stomach. "You're the one who's cutting!" he hissed, gaining a crowd.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll cut it out!" I yelled, walking towards him.

"Like you've been cutting it out?" Dash smiled evilly and crossed his arms. "Oh, wait, you haven't been!"

"That's it! Dash!" I yelled, running straight for him.

"Oh, what's the baby gonna do? Cut me?" his shoulders lifted and fell with the patter of his laughter.

"No." I hissed, three inches from his face. "I'm going to kill you." I punched him hard in the chest, sending him to the dirty hallway floor. He looked up at me, groaning. Anger surged through my veins, and I did something I've longed to do for so long. I kicked him. And kicked him. Right in the gut. Several times. And I didn't stop until Lancer pulled me away from him.

"What are you doing Daniel!" he yelled, gripping my shoulders and pulling me down the hall.

"Taking care of business!" I hissed, digging my heels into the linoleum floor.

"Not anymore!" Lancer exclaimed, dragging me right into the principal's office.

..oo..00..oo..00..

I sobbed heavily against my pillow, the soaking fabric putting tears in my hair. "Why does this keep happening!" I yelled, punching my wall. "This isn't right!" I sobbed harder, my shoulders shaking. I wiped my nose on my wet, bloody hand. It made my face wetter and dirtier, making brown, dried blood smear all over.

"I can't do it! I can't!" I yelled, desperation filling my soul. I became frantic, getting off my bed and running around my room. "This has to end!" I became overwhelmed, feeling adrenaline rush through my veins. There had to be a way to get out. To stop the teasing, the hating, the name-calling. It had to end, or I was going to make it end.

..oo..00..oo..00..

"Ha! You shall not capture me, child!" Technus yelled evilly. "I shall control your woild! I shall steal your electronics, and make them my slaves!"

"Not now, you idiot." I hissed, staring at the ghost in front of my class. I was Fenton, and I was leaning on my hand.

"Not now, ghost child!" Technus yelled, glaring at me.

"I'm not a ghost!" I hissed angrily.

"That's a shocker." he hissed and rolled his eyes. "You're just going to watch me destroy your class, child? How sad!" he laughed evilly in Lancer's face.

"What is the meaning of this!" Lancer yelled, glaring back a me. "Is this your doing?"

"No!" I yelled back. "I did not bring this idiot out!"

"Haha! Yeah!" Dash laughed meanly beside me. "He's too busy cutting himself!"

"Cut it out, Dash!" I yelled, anger overwhelming me once again. I fought the want to go ghost and blast him. That would only cause more problems.

"What is the meaning of this, child!" Technus yelled. He flew back beside my desk and looked my over, his eyes falling on my wrists. "You cut, child?" he whispered, a sympathetic look on his face.

"Yes." I said through gritted teeth, my hands in fists. "Now leave me alone."

"What has caused this outburst of emotion, child?" he asked, almost laying a hand on my shoulder.

I grabbed his wrist before he could touch me, and I bent it back.

"AHH!" he screamed, trying to wiggle out of my grip.

"I said to leave me alone you deaf useless techno monster!" I stood up and grabbed his other arm, causing twice the pain. My mind was gone, my ears deaf to noise. My eyes went green, and I threw him across the room like I would a small skipping rock.

His shrieks were deafened out by my own yelling, and I ran to him. I was on him in a second, punching his face and stomach. Attacking him in any way I could. Tears rushed down my face, making me blind. My eyes flashed back to blue, and I fell beside him, sobbing loudly. "When. Will. This. End." I turned onto my stomach and buried my face in the carpet.

..oo..00..oo..00..

If you or someone you know cuts, don't give up! Life has been planned out for you! You were meant to live a life as you please! Cutting is not the answer! Talking might not seem right to you. I know. Talking hurts instead of helps me. Being emotional isn't a problem. It's how you vent that can cause harm. Please, don't give up. Confide in those you love, and who you know love you. Friendships are built on trust. And, if you find talking is the best for you, I'm here. I won't tell anyone what you say, should you choose to say anything. I care. I've seen this stuff. You aren't alone!