Please be proud of me||Wilbur soot angst

Chapter 5

Cw/Tw: self harm, ed, child neglect?, bad parenting, self hate, smoking, intrusive thoughts.

Wilbur POV:
The next morning Wilbur wasn't feeling like himself. He wanted the notepad and he knew he had to work for it.

The boy felt stupid, he is stupid. That's what he thought. The same morning he groggily walked over to the bathroom.

His eyes that once shone bright with a fire beneath had long died down, now only remains with the ashes of the bright sight.

The beanie boy grabbed the blade and held it to his pale skin. He ran it across the once smooth surface. It now held scars of weakness.

1 cut turned into 2, 2 turned into 20. He couldn't stop, it was so addicting.

35 fresh lines of crimson painted the pale skin. Nothing new there. Scarlet blood beaded at the lines on his wrist. His only comfort.

The realisation set in. Tears brimmed at the corners of his eyes. He slapped them away angrily, then it spoke up. The voice that had always been there but kept quiet.

Weak
Waste of space
Boys. Don't. Cry.

He had to act like everything was okay when it wasn't. He got ready and went downstairs to find his family already having breakfast without him.

No one even called him down.

A pang of sadness caught in his chest. He realised he's not allowed to be sad. He doesn't deserve love. He's unworthy of it.

"Morning" Wilbur said. He didn't expect an answer but got one anyway. Not the one he wanted.

"Sorry we're in a rush to get Tommy into school. Didn't have time to make you breakfast. Just get some toast or something, okay Wil" Phil said as he cleaned up the table.

Breakfast alone again, like always.

The guilt he felt after eating was tearing him apart. He hated himself for everything. Why couldn't he just be perfect like everyone else?

He walked up to the bathroom knowing the house was now empty and kneeled at the toilet. He had to get the food he just ate out of him. He's fat, unworthy brat who thinks he has the right to eat.

He turned the shower on and the scolding water hit his fingers that were now down this throat.

Wilbur wet 2 of his fingers, pushed them to the back of this throat and pushed again, causing little gags that eventually made him throw up. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat until done.

After he got out of his clothes and stepped into the shower. He rinsed his mouth out with water 3 times with water way to hot for his skin. He knew he shouldn't brush his teeth after throwing up as it spreads acid on his teeth.

The scorching hot water fell in droplets out the shower head and onto his pale skin. It ran down his body as he gently ran his fingers over the cuts to clean them. It stung like a bitch but it felt relieving.

Afterwards he got out and dried himself off. He avoided the mirror like the plague. He couldn't make his day any worse with looking at his ugly face. He wasn't normal. He looked weird. He was fat, ugly, disgusting. He could go on and on for hours about how he looked and find new things every second. That's how bad his body was.

The beanie boy needed a cigarette and fast. His nerves needed to be calmed. They were running laps around his body.

In his room he went under his bed to grab a packet of cigarettes and even better he found a bag of weed from ages ago and forgot about it.

Luckily he had skins and he could make a roach out of the packaging. The boy grabbed a skin and the weed as well as a ciggie.

He opened it and the bag of weed, making sure to open his window as well. The brunette boy took some of the plant from the bag and sprinkled it in the skin with some tobacco, he made a roach and put it at the end and rolled it licking it and folding it so it stuck then twisted the end and lit it.

He climbed out of his window onto the roof and began smoking the unhealthy stick. He began taking drags and felt the relief almost instantly it was so calming.

The smoke travelled to his lungs and he breathed it in then exhaled it.

When he was finished with it he was fucked because he was so stoned. He chuckled at himself but he felt really hungry. The boy knew he shouldn't eat. That voice was nagging at him over and over again.

He was starving though. Just one bite of food then I can stop eating for a day, he thought. Just one bite. Only one.

He went to the kitchen after leaving his room, putting all his stuff away first and then grabbed a packet of crisps to eat.

One bite, 2,3,4,5. Stop eating, stop.

He couldn't he was so hungry. Just one more bite. By the time he snapped out of his thoughts he had eaten the whole bag. He felt so guilty but he hadn't eaten a whole bag of crisps for a while and it felt nice.

The guilt was eating at him but he didn't care he needed the food and he got it. His body was happy but his mind wasn't.

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Wc:912
Take care of urself 💕