Extra Author's note, under the preview...

Looking back on how "Scars and Stiches" came out, I realize how… "song-ficish" it came out. I apologize for that. I shall be revising it heavily and beginning the sequel "Blood and Bandages". Here is a preview, and I hope you subscribe, read, and soon shall be the deluxe version, available for download, and fully edited with black and white drawings by yours truly.

Prologue: Coma

The keyboard clacks, the keyboard clicks, the keys they plunged at random. Ten fingers mashed into the plastic squares and displayed a string of seemingly unconnected symbols and letters:

d34r D1Ar3' 70dy m45 n07 4 g_d –ne=

7r3n c4w3 t- c3e w3 ag41n= 5ow3t1we5 1 m0nd3r 1+ h3 r3al1y d035 1ik3 w3. Mh47 5h-u1d 1 d-?

1 +3el 5- br-k3n. H3,5 5a1d '1 1-u3 y-v' y37 a1l I fe-l mheu h3 7-uch3s we 1s pa1u. 1 rew3wber mh47 h3 dLd 2 we; I r3wew3r 17 41L. Bn7 h3 4p-10g15ed aud pr-w15ed neu3r t- hnr7 we ag41u. L jn5t w4u7 7o b3Ii3u3 him. L r34IIy d-, bnt 1 c4u,7. Th475 mhy L,w g01ug 7- k1Li my53i+.

1,w s0rry 3very-n3.

Were they really spelling out nonsense on the computer screen before the maddened teen? Or were they merely a reflection of his unvoiced inner turmoil? Only one person could find out the truth, and only one other knew of the horrors he had seen.

Insanity was nonsensical to believe in. Besides, how could one lose a grip on their sanity if they had none to start with?

Ichiru wiped the tears away with his right arm, the cloth of his sleeve rough against his scraped and bruised face. On the table next to him was an orange prescription bottle. For a moment he gripped a clump of his matted grey hair, remembering what exactly had prompted him to go down this course.

As strange as it seemed, he had decided it was love.

And that was why he had to die.

To my wonderful, loving fans:

As much as I would like to, I cannot continue this story. Unfortunately, this was an outlet for my pain and anguish, and because of that I am discontinuing the "Scars and Stitches" series. I have saved all the chapters, however. Maybe you'll see it again, maybe you won't. I had used my own trauma as the background for this fanfiction, but I don't want any of my new fans to see the darkness that's grown within my own soul.

Instead, I'll be continuing the other projects I had, such as the Madoka fanfiction I have.

If you want me to revise this fanfiction and put it on Google Drive instead, please, PM me and let me know, or leave a review on this chapter.

I am looking to handle my trauma in better, less damaging ways to others. I have found other survivors of SA have disliked this fanfiction quite a bit, as well as other people have brought it to my attention.

I hadn't been able to write for an entire two years after becoming homeless. I worked hard, starving all the while, to finally have an apartment and get a good job. I just don't want people seeing this fanfiction and trying to doxx me, as several people have threatened to on Facebook.

If you want to support my current artwork, please let me know. I struggle with money, often. I do stream on Twitch, too, so if you want to look up Olivedknight please do (It is also my twitter handle). I am actually quite fragile and my legs are physically weak, so the only thing for so many years I could do well was write and draw.

Again, this isn't a goodbye, but a notification that if you want to get a copy of this story before I delete it on here and Wattpad, please let me know.

I might be changing my fanfiction pen name, too, for consistency throughout my online presence.

Thank You for understanding.