𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑||𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟖

Chloe's POV:

It's been a few days since the whole Moon thing.

I feel angry, tired, and sad. The only time I feel happiness is when I'm with someone. When I'm alone I just wanna die.

Im laying in my bed on my side staring at the wall. I can see the scissors. I have the instinct to grab them. I walk over to my dresser and grab the scissors and go to sit on my bed.

This brought back memories. It's almost like I was back on that beaten mattress on the floor doing this.

I could almost smell my old house and all of the alcohol in it. I looked down at my wrists that already had many scars on them, and started cutting back into them.

I just wanted the pain to go away. But yet I also wanted to feel something. Pain. I sliced and sliced.

I decided I should stop after I got a good 7 deep cuts. I got cleaned up, and decided to head over to the dojo.

I made sure to put a sweatshirt on to cover up my fresh cuts. I put some athletic tape on them to keep them from getting infected.

I walked to the back of the dojo to the punching bags. I hit them harder and harder while screaming with rage and hurt. All of those bad memories motivated me to keep hitting harder and harder.

my dad raping me.

my dad hitting me.

me almost getting my throat sliced.

panicking in front of a bunch of people.

fucking up with robby.

making moon feel bad.

feeling like i'm always bothering someone.

not opening up to hawk about kreese.

not being able to understand how i feel.

always feeling angry and sad.

when i feel happy, it's like i get aggressively happy to the point where i feel like it's the last time i'll ever feel happiness.

feeling weak. and helpless.

getting harassed and slut shamed.

getting bullied at school.

having body image issues.

suicidal thoughts.

getting too emotionally attached.

being too trusting yet having trust issues at the same time.

having way too many mental illnesses.

either eating too much or not enough.

everything.

I was hitting the punching bags so hard to the point it was bruising my knuckles. But I didn't care. I was angry. For no reason. Just memories made me mad.

I felt like I couldn't even control myself. I was just loudly grunting, screaming, with each punch that hit the bag.

"Looks like scars has some anger issues." I heard a voice say behind me.

I turned around and didn't even say anything. I just glared. He started walking up to me. I stood my ground. I wasn't afraid anymore.

"Call me scars again and you'll regret it." I said coldly.