A Drug that Changed My Life - Cashby

Chapter Three

[A/N: Okay, so me and a Tumblr buddy, i-wont-worry, are now working on this together! Chapters will be posted on her fanfic tumblr, fangirling-hq, and on my Wattpad. GO FOLLOW HER IF YOU HAVE TUMBLR! ;D]

I burst in the door, out of breath. My mum looked up at me, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Your dad isn't home yet, you're lucky. Now come in here and set the table with me please?" I walked into the kitchen, grabbing the utensils and setting them beside each of the plates.

***

I could hear my parents yelling downstairs, yelling about me... I rolled over in my bed, reaching for my phone and headphones, to block it all out. Better to block it out, since I'd likely have to hear about it later anyways... I put in my earbuds, turning up my music and opening up my book, absent-mindedly tapping my toe along with the music. After getting through a few more chapters, I decided I didn't want to read anymore, and hoped that my parents were done fighting. I turned down my music, taking out one earbud.

“ALAN! GET DOWN HERE!” I heard my father yell. Crap. I was going to get it for something that happened during the day. I reluctantly took out my other headphone and walked as slowly down the stairs as I possibly could.  When I finally made it to the kitchen, Mom was nowhere to be found. “You went out this afternoon.” He snarled.

“No I didn’t...” I lied. I was met with a swift slap in the face.

“DON’T LIE TO ME YOU LITTLE SHIT! I SAW YOU WALKING SOMEWHERE! Where were you this afternoon?!”

“The library!” I finally squeaked after a few more slaps.

“DON’T EVER LIE TO ME AGAIN, YOU HEAR?!” I nodded, curling myself into a little ball to shield myself from his kicks. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve, and it ended on lucky thirteen. Once I was sure his assault was done, I ran as quickly as I could back upstairs and headed straight for my bedroom. I tore through the sheets on my bed looking for that little old friend, who was stained with years worth of blood at this point, but it didn’t matter.

Finally, I found it, breathing a sigh of relief in the process. I shed my jeans and sat down on the floor, tears forming in my eyes. I dragged the silver blade across my skin, watching it bleed out crimson. Such a soothing color now that I’d gotten used to it. A few more passes, and then the endorphins kicked in. I just lay there, watching my thighs bleed, letting myself ride the high of the sight of my own blood. Everything, every problem, every bad time from the day just washing away with a few little scrapes. It was an exhilarating feeling, knowing that I could control myself that way.

***

I woke up where I had passed out the night before, in a pool of my own blood. Sophie was sitting right next to it, staring at me, her head tipped to the side a bit as if to ask “What’s wrong?”

“Fuck off, Sophie, I’m not in the mood.” I said, heaving myself off the floor and mopping up the pool of crimson on the floor with the towel I always used. I wrapped the blade up in the towel and shoved them both all the way at the foot of my bed underneath a mass of blankets and sheets and dirty clothes. I walked into the bathroom and washed my hands and bandaged my legs the way I’d taught myself back in 6th grade. I looked at myself in the mirror... but I didn’t see a normal 8th grader. I saw a failure.

***

I barely paid attention during school that day. Nothing mattered it seemed. I wasn’t the son my father or mother wanted, I was a disappointment. Through my haze I felt someone tap my thigh. Of course, right over one of my cuts. I flinched a bit, then looked at Austin. He glanced at me, a question in his brown eyes. I just shrugged a little and looked back at my blank notebook page.