DIEGO'S POV.

I wake up with my throat feeling dry; I need to drink some water.

I stand up from the bed, stepping down on the cold hard wood floor.

I catch sight of Hunter who is spread on the couch that is in the room.

It pains me to see him in such a condition. Hunter looks tired, I can see the wrinkles that are forming on his face. His hair also looks messy, he looks unorganized: which is not like him.

Hunter hates looking disorganized. Hunter always wants to looks his best. He dresses in the best clothes, his hair is always styled and his face is always smooth and almost perfect.

But I can tell that he has not been himself these past few days.

He is always alert these days. He jumps up when I make any sound, even if it is a simple cough. He always sleeps on the couch, even though I tell him not to.

He has become like a guard, a guard that is always there next to me, watching me like a hawk.

I find it weird and uncomfortable. I do not like people being in my space, even if the person is my brother.

I love having my space. I know that he is worried and I appreciate that. It makes me feel special; I feel happy knowing that someone cares and loves me.

I get the blanket that has fallen on the floor, spreading it on top of Hunter.

I release a small chuckle as I watch Hunter slowly snore, it makes me happy knowing that not everything changes; Hunter still sleeps like a baby and it is quite funny.

I remember the times that we slept on the floor some years back. Hunter used to hit me on the face with his feet and it fucking hurt every single time.

Hunter and I have come a long way, and hopefully our journey will not end too soon.

I pray I survive these voices that are in my head. These voices are my only downfall, they are the main reason I am like this.

My parents contributed a lot to the way I am. Do I hate them? Yes I do.

A parent that does evil to his or her child does not deserve to be called a parent.

A child might be ignorant, but there will come a time when the child will want answers.

The child will carry himself with low self-esteem. The feeling of not being wanted will surface and the pain that comes from seeing the other children happy with their parents will be like the final nail.

You can birth a child, help him or her grow. But at the end of it all, the way you treat that child will matter.

The child will grow up choosing to love you or the child will grow up resenting you.

Some people will accept living in a toxic environment while some people will choice to leave it behind.

And I chose to leave with my head held high, my support being the crazy brother of mine.

I leave the room, walking down the huge staircase slowly, a smile present on my face.

I love the bond that Hunter and I share. We are not related by blood, but we are each other's pillars.

Hunter stood by me when everyone abandoned me. My aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents and the evil witches left, but Hunter stayed.

Water and Blood are important in one's life. But even though blood is thicker than water, water will continue to flow while blood dries up.

Blood can dry up because of its thickness, and just like that family relations can dry up as well.

Jealousy is an emotion that I do not like, but it used to pain me sometimes.

I remember watching the other prisoners' interact with their families, while I stood in the back with my arms folded.

Some had their mothers and fathers with them, smiles on their faces and tears of joy in their eyes. The kisses and hugs that were shared with the families was prescious.

And I am grateful that I had Hunter by my side, but I also thought of the two witches visiting me.

I imagined that those prisoners and their parents were me with my parents. And my imagination became a reality, a reality that I hate to this day.

Their words are like a broken radio in my head. Their words keep replaying in my head, they are like a song to me, a song that I hate.

I feel an urge that involves cutting myself when I enter the kitchen. My eyes land on the knife that looks beautiful resting on top of the cabinets.

I want to run to it, to press it to my wrist. I want to numb my pain.

I walk towards it, my heart beating fast as I near it.

My hand reaches out to it, my fingers almost touching it. But an image comes to mind. Hunter's face comes to mind, his eyes full of tears and his eyes seeming sad.

I become confused as I fight with my thoughts.

It would be selfish of me to do this. Hunter sacrificed his life for me, he chose to live a life that has little to no peace for me. I can not repay him in such a way.

I withdraw my hand, walking towards the fridge and pulling it open. I grab a bottle of water, opening it and taking a sip from it.

My throat and body feels refreshed as I drink the cold water.

I feel like I have not drank anything in days, which must be the case because I do not remember drinking anything for days now.

I look ahead at the digital clock that is hang on the wall, an electrical calendar placed on the bottom.

My face holds confusion as I see that it has been an additional two days since that day.

I can not believe that I am having those episodes, again. I thought they went away.

I know that they will destroy me if I do not control them. But how can I control them when I can not even control myself?

My eyes move around the room as I start thinking of ideas. My eyes see the knife again, the urge to harm myself becoming strong.

I feel like I am stressing myself. I feel like a failure as I remember that day. Why can I not forget? What is fucking happening?

I feel a headache as I walk towards the knife, the water bottle long forgotten because my mind is only focused on the dangerous weapon.

My hand reaches out to it, almost touching it when the knife is taken away from me.

I feel anger as I see this, I feel like strangling whoever did this.

I slowly turn my head to the side, my anger turning to confusion as I see Ms Rowland with a look of disbelief on her face.

AUTHOR'S NOTE.