One-sided

The Aftermath.

I woke up the next morning, shit I woke up. I can't do anything right, can I? I can't even end my own life without fucking it up. I felt truly awful. I was much paler than normal, everything and everywhere still covered in blood. Shit shit shit shit SHIT SHIT SHIT. I have to clean this before my father sees it. I stood up, and immediately I fell. Fuck. The world was spinning, my body ached, I felt like I was going to throw up and I was covered in blood. I checked the time. 3:48 am. I must've woken up early. Meaning I have time to deal with this. I grabbed a water bottle from my bedside table and I chugged it hoping it'd give me more strength. Suddenly, I could feel I was about to throw up so I grabbed my trashcan and vomited in that. This is just fucking great. I sat on the ground and just tried to crawl to my bathroom. I eventually made it and ran myself a bath. I removed my bloody clothing and got in. This was, of course, a struggle. I washed off all the blood from my body. The bathwater was red at this point. I put on pajamas. I had a bit more strength so I could unsteadily and slowly walk. I walked as fast as I could, which wasn't fast at all, back to my room and I wrapped my bloody clothing in my blanket and sheet that were also covered in blood. I hid them deep in my laundry basket. All of this in total took like an hour and a half to do. I lied back down, my head was throbbing and all other parts of my body aching. I was still sickly pale and felt like I was going to vomit again. This was hell. Fucking hell. I lied awake for what felt like hours until I finally fell back asleep. I woke up to my alarm, and it felt like needles in my head. The high pitch beep hurt so fucking much. I hit snooze and got ready. I was able to move and do things better, but still not well. I was still slower and more unsteady than normal but now I could actually do shit. I got dressed in the first outfit I could find. A t-shirt, an old jacket that I wasn't even sure if I fit anymore, and some shorts. It's basic but it's not awful. Sometimes by this point in time, my father is still asleep, so I'm praying he is. I finished getting ready and I walked out. I was lucky and he was in fact still asleep. I decided to take a bus to school, I got on the bus, and I walked all the way to the back. I passed out not long after. About 10 minutes later I woke up to a certain blue boy sitting next to me.

"Hey, Trav, you left early yesterday everything okay?" He asked a few seconds after I woke up again. I didn't have the energy to reply so I just nodded. He must've noticed I didn't wanna talk because he pulled out his phone. Once we made it to school, we both got off, and he walked behind me. He seemed worried.

My jacket must've rubbed against my wrist in a weird way because all of the sudden I saw a drop of blood come from my wrist. Sal must've seen it too because he pulled me to the side to ask about it. Once again, we were under the staircase, and he was questioning me. I gave in after a bit and explained what happened. Not about my feeling at the park, and definitely not about what happened with my father, but about the attempt. It took a second for him to react, I'm not sure he knew how to. He once again hugged me, this one much tighter and lasting much longer, he then jotted down his number on a piece of paper and handed it to me telling me to contact him if I had those thoughts again. He was a sweet boy, but that wasn't going to happen. "I can't," I said and handed him his number back. I can't necessarily talk to him about it if I can't tell him, why I'm feeling this way. It'd ruin everything. The friendship we have would be fucking ruined. I can't tell him. Never.

"Yes, you can, I'll be here to listen. I insist." He handed me the paper again, this time I shoved it in my pocket. I could still feel a few drops of blood dripping down my arm, so I took my jacket off. I could see Sal's eyes widen from behind his prosthetic.

"Holy shit, Travis- Did you disinfect it? Are you sure it's healing properly? Are you okay? Shit, man- That's so bad- I'm- I'm surprised you survived that-" He grabbed my hand and lifted it to get a closer look. He shifted through his backpack and pulled out... bandages? Why the hell does he keep this in there- He wrapped both of my wrists up. "It might not help a lot, but it'll help stop the bleeding for sure. And please, please talk to me next time you have any thoughts similar to this. Please." There was a hint of sadness in his voice. Why does he care so much? Shit. He's fucking perfect.