(DISCONTINUED) Chains | Fundy Angst Story

~ Chapter V ~

TW // Nightmares, Voices, Blood, Cuts, Inferenced abuse, Panic Attack, Passing Out, Swearing, and Depression

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Info!

Fundy: My Au
Emotions and actions:

Acts Happy to cope with all his depression.

Usually is silent when the voices in his head get to much for him to handle.

Cuts himself to cope with his issues.

Blames himself for all the issues in his life.

Looks! (Artists I'm looking at you)

Messy hair, somewhat curly. (Light orange)

Long black coat that goes to his feet.

Orange gradient scarf.

Orange shirt. (t-shirt)

Black sweatpants.

White and orange shoes.

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Now into the story!

《Fundy POV》

Every step is like taking a step in a foggy, dark forest. I know nothing around me, and the voice in the back of my head isnt helping. It keeps talking about everyone looking at me, judging me, and I would be lying if I said I didn't believe it.

While walking out the building I come to a halt and sit down on a bench to try to calm myself. I remind myself of what I should be doing and immediately grab my smooth, sliver phone out of my pocket and dial the number for Uber.

From every single night that I had tried desperately to escape, but to no avail, the number of Uber has been engraved into stone in my head.

My train of thought gets stampeded by the sudden wave of emotions from the small "ding" that showed that the person on the other line has answered.

Every word I spoke to the person on the other side is fake. I decided to act all happy, the way I wish I could be. Probably just a coping thing.

I sit back down, and just give in to the voices, not being able to take any more physical or emotional pain.

"Look at your wrists"

I pull up my sleeves, revealing the mess of bruises, cuts, and scabs all my arms.

"Think of that as a sign."

"Nobody wants you."

"Seriously, if the world did that to you would you feel wanted?"

I look down, and feel soft, smooth tears flow down my cheek, leaving small red trails outlining its path down my face.

I don't even know what emotions I feel. It's right, so am I ashamed? Mad? Angry at the world for doing this to me?

...

Sad?

I continue to slowly cry, giving into the voices, essentially becoming, a puppet, while the voices, the puppeteer controls me.

I feel like a vessel. A slave. A useless waste of fucking space. I feel... heavy... well atleast some part of my body.

My eyes

I feel them, slowly become heavier and heavier as my body attempts to lug me into a deep sleep. Normally I would fight it, but I don't have enough energy, so I slip into a slumber, on a bench, outside a airport.