As soon as he had locked the door he collapsed on the floor

As soon as he had locked the door he collapsed on the floor. Leaning against the wall he took a few deep breaths before looking up. He was in one of the small toilets spread out around the school. Emphasis on small. Damn it, he couldn’t even stretch out his legs fully.
A bit awkwardly, due to his crouched position, he pulled out the pair of scissors in his pocket. He had borrowed them from one of his, least said, annoying classmates, who, of course, had no idea what he was intending to use it for.
After some seconds of consideration, he decided it was to much trouble to pull off his trousers and instead removed his unbuttoned shirt. He rolled up his t-shirt sleeve a little and inspected the scissors, trying to see which blade was the sharper. The right one seemed to be slightly sharper so he pressed it to a point on the inside of his upper arm. He could feel his jaw tensing as he pushed the blade down. Not very deep, just enough to make sure there was some blood. He closed his eyes as he made the cut. After a second or two he opened them. Tiny drops of blood were already forming. They looked very red against the pale skin.

He was already starting to regret his rash decision to use the arm instead of his thigh. He might have to “forget” his gym clothes next week as well. Looking down on his arm he realized that one cut wouldn’t be enough. It never was.
A bit scared of the pain, he put the point down again, some centimetres under the now blood red cut. Jaws tense, eyes closed he made the cut. He took a few deep breaths before opening his eyes again.
Too shallow, he thought. Hardly any blood at all. He wished he had a razor.
As he followed a blood drop from the first cut he was really starting to regret this. His arm would be sore and he would have to wear long sleeved shirts for at least a week.
But some of the angst was gone. He almost felt ready to face the world again.
One more cut, he thought.
He made two. Then a pause. He didn’t open his eyes. He was really excited now. The pressure in his chest that had driven him too borrow the scissors in the first place wasn’t gone, but it was bearable now. The urge to cry was completely gone. But he was really regretting the cuts now. They would only bring trouble.
He hated himself.
Not wanting to go back to the emotional state he had been in before the cuts, he quickly made a short, abrupt cut.
After a few, calming breaths he glanced down on his arm. There was now five, red lines. He watched in fascination for a while as tiny blood drops formed and trickled down his arm. The watch on his wrist caught his attention. He was going to be late.
The spell broken, he scrambled to his feet. He grabbed some paper and wiped away the blood. He almost felt bad about destroying the beautiful drops. The cuts had almost stopped bleeding but he was still grateful he wasn’t wearing a white t-shirt. He quickly pulled on his shirt and buried the bloodied paper on the bottom of the dustbin.
He froze with his hand already on the doorknob. The initial excitement from the cuts already gone, he wasn’t sure if he really was up to facing the world. The regret was obvious now. He shouldn’t have done it. Especially not in school. It was one thing to do it in bed, at night in the cover of the dark.
He heard some of his class mates through the door. They were laughing.
He unlocked the door, and feeling that there was no point in delaying the inevitable, he pushed open the door and stepped out to face the world.