Dreaming of You (Ereri)

Ch. 14

Lol, that picture tho. There's no need to fear! Maid Levi is here!

...the fuck am I doing with my life (;¬_¬)

Okay, so this chapter will be kinda short. It'll have some pretty intense language, and I know there are some people who are uncomfortable with it (I know I was in middle school; ah, how times have changed). There will also be, um, self-harm, so if that's triggering to anyone, please don't read this.

Love you guys. Please don't hate me for the plot twist.

***

Eren's P.O.V.
I didn't ask questions. I didn't try to argue, or plead for him to let me stay. I didn't do anything.

I simply left.

And it wasn't like I wanted to. If I had it my way, I would have marched over to where he stood not five feet from me and slapped him so hard not even Google would've been able to find him. But, in my confused, terrified, weak, and vulnerable state, I didn't - couldn't - do anything.

I slugged my way back home, and even though it was only a twelve minute walk, it felt like hours. It didn't help that as soon as I stepped out of the apartment building, thunder sounded in the distance, and by the time I reached my street, it was pouring. Mom had a thing or two to say about my soaked clothes when I arrived home, but I just tugged them off and made my way to my room in nothing but my boxers, much to the disapproval of my oh-so-oblivious mother. Vaguely, I wondered if the same Carla Jaeger I knew then had been my mother in my past life, but through the haziness of my depression, that thought, as well as every other thought that crossed my mind, was clouded and disfigured. The only thought that could truly register in my saddened mind was one I had always hoped I'd never have to think.

Levi hated me.

I couldn't be 100% sure if that was true or not, and I prayed that it wasn't, but if it wasn't true then he wouldn't have sent me out, right? He would have done what any good, proper boyfriend would have done and comforted me. He should have guided me through this hell that I was swimming in, and once we'd crossed that fiery bridge of confusion, he would have smiled at me and we would go on with our lives.

But that fucking midget had to be a fucking fuck and fuck up every fucking thing.

I drew back from my tear-stained pillow and sniffed in a futile attempt to clear my nasal passage. It shocked me how angry I was getting at Levi, but his actions were so messed up that I couldn't tell how I was supposed to feel about it, so my idiotic teenage hormones said, "Oh, hey! Let's get mad as fuck even though we weren't given an explanation for anything! And guess what!? By getting angrier than Jean when we call him Horseface, we're going to fuck up things even fucking worse! Because fuck fucking life, that's fucking why!"

Without thinking, I screamed into my pillow as heavy tears started to flow yet again. I couldn't stand this depression, but how else was I supposed to react? I wasn't cool, calm, and collected like Levi or Mikasa, and I couldn't look on the bright side like Armin and Marco. I couldn't even properly take my anger out like Jean. I was just a pitiful piece of shit who relied on every fucking body around him when he got upset, and was therefore a spoiled rotten fucktard. I hated myself in that moment; every fiber of my being was loathed.

With tears streaming steadily down my cheeks, I stood and rummaged through the drawer of my bedside table for a small piece of metal I had hoped I'd said goodbye to for good. Dried blood caked the sharper edge of the razor, which I'd yanked out of a pencil sharpener with the help of a trusty pair of tweezers. I went into the bathroom adjacent to my room and washed off the blade, then sat down with my back pressed to the built-in tub. Shakily, I rolled up the sleeve of the Superman sweatshirt I'd hastily thrown on after the unexpected phone call that morning and pressed the razor softly to my skin. My eyes shut themselves as stinging pain bit into my flesh, but I forced them open. How sick I was, finding the sight of my blood appealing. A twisted grin formed on my lips as tiny, red dots appeared on my wrist, which up until then, had remained unmarked for three years. The grin almost instantly faded, however, as a stronger, more powerful, more consuming desire invaded my body. I pressed the blade even harder into my skin, ignoring the piercing bite, and yanked my other arm back, causing large globs of blood to form even faster than the smaller ones. I repeated this until my whole arm from the edge of my hand to just below my elbow was covered in red, dripping onto the floor. Furiously, I did the same on my other arm, then spent extra time on both thighs before moving to my shoulders. After that, I tried a new spot: my hips. The burning all over my body wasn't enough, and the annoying shaking that made the cuts sloppier and deeper because I basically lost control of my body was enough to drive me insane, so I cut more, more, more. Blood spilled down my arms from my shoulders and wrists, down my legs from my thighs, hips, and calves down my abdomen from my ribs, and stomach, down my chest from my collarbone, and just as I was moving to my neck, something stopped me. I can't let anyone see, I thought, my eyes widening. Calmly, I set down the blade and searched for a towel, but found none, so I instead made a daring choice and started the shower. As soon as the water was hot enough to turn my skin an even more angry red than it already was, I slowly stepped in, wincing as just about every patch of skin on my body burned ferociously. I whimper conjured from excruciating pain escaped my lips unwillingly, and I fought the urge to leap out from the shower that was causing me so much more pain.

The cuts, the water, and my heart were all the biggest sources of pain. It hurt so much... Before I could entirely register just how much pain I was in, my body went rigid and limp, and I couldn't feel anything at all. Darkness enveloped me in a chilling embrace, and, despite the cold, I welcomed it warmly.

***

Just gonna say that what he just did is exactly what I did once. Don't hurt yourself, beauties. I love every single one of you shitty brats. If you need to talk, talk. Don't let things bottle up and wind up like I did: three cuts away from a new, six-foot deep home. I'm here for anyone that needs a shoulder to cry on.

Love,
Heichou