Who to Trust?

Ch 5 - Wait!

Previously on Who to Trust?...

"I think we need to plan something with the group, try to get Corpse to come along. Also, have to make sure that the group doesn't make him feel weird or singled out." This was why I loved the great Jacksepticeye. He was really smart and had a knack for helping people. I nodded happily, returning my focus to scrolling through and alternating between Instagram and Twitter.

"Just wished I knew what he was thinking." I've wanted to know that for a while myself.

~=Mentions of Self Harm=~

~=Corpse=~

My heartbeat was loud within my own ears, yet it was very slow. A little too slow for my liking. With that concerning thought in my head, I forced the fog of unconsciousness away as I returned to the waking world. Opening my eyes, I stared at a familiar ceiling. How the hell had I ended up here? With a groan, I attempted to sit up. The groan very quickly morphed into a pained grunt as my arm shifted within the towel, which had become crusted with my own blood. Memories of moments past rushed back to me and I have to say. I'm fucking disgusted. What the fuck is wrong with me? Cutting myself like a depressed emo fourteen year old? I chose the ignore the fact that while I wasn't fourteen, I was depressed... and probably emo too given all the black I wear.

I sat up from the floor. I took careful note of the fact that I was still light-headed before making my way onto my feet. Keeping the towel wrapped around my arm, I moved towards my initial goal before I collapsed. The first aid kit had the bandage at the top, saving me from digging around. Moving over to the sink in case I started bleeding again, I slowly began to unravel the cloth from my arm, my face in a constant grimace. With the towel finally off, having re-opened a few of the cuts so a few trickles of blood met the surface once more, I thought of a way to clean the wounds before I could wrap them. Fuck getting this shit infected. Moving back towards my medicine cabinet, I grabbed a bottle of antiseptic before moving back to the sink. With one hand, I undid the cap, which was difficult because of the child lock. Fuck you, try opening a childproof bottle with one hand. It wasn't long before the cap came off and I had moved it over the sink along with my arm. I was not prepared for the new definition of hell that this brought forth. I just had to go and DRENCH my arm with the shit. A pained cry escaped my lips as tears formed at the edges of my eyes, vision growing blurry.

My body involuntarily tensed up, arm included. It was here that I learned, that due to the contorting of the skin caused by the shifting of muscles, wounds, which may include cuts, may reopen. Well shit. My arm was bleeding... a lot... again. Fuck.

Why does God have it out for me? Asshole. I wasn't sure if I was directing the insult to the big guy up there or at myself. Gathering myself from my near crouched position, I moved to the drawers, grabbing a wooden spoon and placing it within my mouth, immediately biting down on it. All of the cuts had already reopened, I just had to push through some more pain before I wrapped it. Gritting my teeth even harder, I moved my arm and bottle over the sink once more, blood already colouring the stainless steel shell. I began to pour the very pain-inducing substance over the cuts. I let out the occasional grunt, trying my absolute best to not tense my arm... which didn't work at all. My veins were on show for literally no one as I couldn't keep from tensing. The pain brought to me by this fucking hell in a bottle could not be described using words... so I'll just shout in pain instead. And that's exactly what I did. Tears finally fell down my cheeks as the bottle finally emptied. I couldn't wallow in my own pain, I had to get this wrapped. The only problem though, I've never wrapped a wound, let alone... I began counting the cuts... eleven. My self-loathing came back full force.