The Auction

31

(1927 Words)

TW: Talking of Grief/ED

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The next week was spent in my room sulking in grief. I only came out of my room to eat and use the bathroom and occasionally watch a movie if no one was home. And if I noticed that one of them was downstairs, I wouldn't eat or do anything until they left.

I wanted no human interaction, especially not with them. Part of me was annoyed and upset with Sapnap and Karl because they knew this whole time and never said anything about it.

How could they keep this from me, for so long. I trusted them. 

But I had no where else to go, I was living with killers, and I was scared to leave. 

I mourned my parents deaths every second of the day. I had gone through every stage of grief twice that week.

Denial. I didn't want to believe they were gone, they couldn't be gone. There was no way they had actually been gone, I wouldn't allow myself to believe it had actually happened.

Anger. I hated the three of them with my entire heart and soul, I wanted nothing but for them to feel the pain I was going through. I would never forgive them for what they had done, never.

Bargainings. Maybe there was a way for me to sneak out and leave this whole thing. Was my life really worth staying here? Yes, there was a chance I could be taken again if I left, and possibly even killed but I was willing to bargain my life for a bit of freedom.

Depression. Everything hurt. I cried myself to sleep, everynight. Most days I slept at max for two hours. My eyes had grown a darkened line underneath, and my body had gotten skinner by each day. I lost all motivation to eat anything, I couldn't bring myself to move out of bed, my whole body was numb and I just wanted to curl up and let my body rot.

Acceptance. Everything was done and over with, there was no way of me getting my parents back or changing any sort of the past, all of this had to of happened for a reason. Although I didn't want to believe it, it was over and done with any the only thing I could do about it now was grieve.

I just still couldn't past any of it. It had been a week since I had last had anything to eat, since I had last spoken to another human, since I had gotten any air at all, since I had gotten any sleep.

I didn't feel the need. I didn't feel anything anymore, I didn't feel the need to do anything anymore. I was glad none of them had come to speak with me. They were all assholes, and deserved the silent treatment. 

But part of me wanted to stay. Just like that night. I couldn't understand why, they had KILLED my parents, why was I staying? 

A few hours had passed and my body began to heat up and ache. The smell of B.O filled my room and I lifted my shirt up smelling myself, gagging at the horrible stench.

I had only changed my clothes once after that week, and hadn't taken a shower for more than a week. My body was too tired to get up and do something productive, so my body was left to crumble.

The smell had gotten so bad I couldn't take it anymore, I needed to do something about it, it was the least I could do, for now.

I turned over on my bed and sat myself upwards. The blood rushed to my head and I felt dizzy, I rubbed my eyes, my skin was sticking to one another as I adjusted. I groaned and let out a soft croak.

I placed my worn out feet onto the floor before standing up. I stumbled and fell backwards onto the bed, my hands catching me. I had been laying down for too long my body had gone numb.