He had been popping pills all day. It started when he woke up, through the day at school, on they way home, at home, every chance he got. Valium, Vicodin, Xanax, Klonopin, and all sorts of other stuff. Once we got home he started drinking and smoking weed on top of all of it. I can't remember what our fight started over, but he pulled a knife on me and put it to my throat. "I swear to God, I'm really fucked up right now and I don't care! I'll fucking kill you. I'll cut your throat and I'll slit your wrists. I'll sit here, I'll watch you bleed out and I'll throw you out back. I'll put you in a barrel and let you rot, then I'll dump your body in a pit of acid. Don't fucking test me!" I couldn't believe something like that came out of his mouth. He just got more pissed off when I started crying. "You gonna go cut yourself now? Come on, you do it all the time! Get in the bathroom, come on!" He pulled me into the bathroom, slammed the door and sat down. "Where's it at? I know you have it with you, you always do. Is it in your purse?" So he went and got my purse, he knew my razor blade was in my wallet. "Come on!" He threw it at me and I started making really little cuts on my legs. My mom knows where all my scars are and if I get caught again I'm getting sent to a long-term residential facility. "Those aren't cuts, those are scratches! What's the matter, you don't want to now!?" I attempted to explain and all I could say was "But my mom..." before he interrupted. "I don't care if you get sent away! Are you scared!?" I got sent to the hospital a little under a year ago (which was the first time he and I were together) and he dumped me. I brought that to his attention and told him I loved him, but he wasn't having it. "I'm getting bored! Hurry up! If you don't do it I will!" He put down his 40 and took my razor blade. "You don't do it like that, you stick it in your leg and drag it like this." He put this gash in my hip that's roughly three inches long and half a centimeter thick. It bled everywhere, down my leg and on the floor and I started cleaning it up. "I thought you liked the blood, why are you cleaning it up!?" I stopped and stood up, but that didn't work out so well because I was dizzy. I sat back down and all I heard was "BITCH!" and he slammed the door. I have bruises on my legs, arms and one of my sides. I have this nasty gash that's not bleeding anymore, but it hasn't closed at all. You can see the like raw purple-ish white flesh underneath the skin he cut and it's disgusting. I don't know how to hide all the damage from my mom. I thought he was Mr. Perfect. This wasn't supposed to happen.