"I cut the vein, to set the demons free.
And take a breath, to heal the hurt in me."
-From "Show Me Light" sung by Ramin Karimloo

Jeff walked into his house. In the living room, his mom was curled up on the couch with the TV on; the same thing she did every day since his dad had died.
Jeff went into his room. He got out his dad's combat knife. He liked looking at it; remembering the happier times. He held it in his hand, the blade in his palm. The memory of that day flashed and he closed his eyes and clenched his hand, remembering coming home from school and finding his dad in the living room. Jeff thought he was asleep, until he saw the empty bottle of pills and the note.
Jeff never even knew his hand was bleeding until the blood ran down to his elbow. He went to the bathroom and washed the gash in in palm. Not deep enough to need stitches, but deep enough to hurt. He held toilet paper on his hand until it stopped bleeding and slapped on a Band-Aid. For some reason, it didn't hurt as much as he hurt inside. He flushed the bloodied paper down the toilet; he didn't want his mom to think he was hurting himself.
Jeff tried to play his guitar, but his injured hand made it difficult. He got out his notebook. It was full of musing and ideas for songs; writing was his therapy. He broke two pencil points.