Beating Heart// Lashton

Chapter 2

I swallow the sound and it swallows me whole

'Til there's nothing left inside my soul

I'm as empty as that beating drum

But the sound has just begun

-Drumming Song By Florence and the Machine

Ashton's POV

I ended up going home early. I went to the nurse after I finished crying on the bathroom floor, and told her I threw up. I left out the part where I had intentionally made myself sick. She sent me home, which I was grateful for. 

She probably thought I was going to go home and rest, but that's the exact opposite of what I did.

My mom was still at work, so I had the house to myself. This meant I could be as loud as possible. Right when I got in the door, I threw my bag onto the ground and made a beeline for the basement, where my love, my drumset, stood. Every bad day I've ever had immediately washed away the second I sat on the stool. When I felt the wooden drumsticks in my hand, every negative thought that's usually screaming at me vanquished. I let all of my frustrations, my anger that this is my life, go with each strike. It was just me and my drums, no one else existed in that moment. I was free from everything, Jack and Ben, Louis, my absent father, my entire shitty life.

I felt happiness.

Unfortunately that didn't last much longer. At some point I forced myself to take a break and use the restroom. When I pulled my pants down, I saw the scares imbedded deep in my thighs, next to violently red lines from just a day ago. There were so many marks on my thighs, but something told me that there weren't enough. I needed more. I deserved more.

So I grabbed the razor blade I had hidden in the bathroom, and I made more.

One

Two

Four

Six

Eight

Beads of blood covered my left thigh, and for some twisted reason, all I felt was relief, although only temporary.