𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 | B.E

PART 23

023:  apart

tw: depression, mentions of relapse & alcoholism.

katherine's pov

out of all four hundred thousand words in the dictionary, none of them could describe the horrific pain that weight down my heavy heart. how could my own mind make me feel so worthless? to the point of pushing away the only person on god's green earth that genuinely cared for me, and who possibly loved me?

is this soul-wrenching feeling, love? does it truly hurt this much? i ruin everything good. the people, the objects, and the moments i held so close to my heart i decided to smash into a billion pieces simply because i feared losing it all to anything but my own doing.

every happy beginning has a tragic ending.

growing up i was taught to never; flaunt, boast, or show off in front of men because it emasculated them. which caused me to shy away, back down, and surrender to the abuse from all the male role models in my life.

continuing onto adolescence i told myself to always hit first, and i hit everyone until there was no one left. pushing people away the moment they moved too close is my only talent, deep down i knew they'd all leave me eventually so i cut the cord before it advanced any further.

as a result of my terrible upbringing, i later regretted every single decision i've ever made in my entire existence. including the choice to stay breathing.

hence why i'd spent the last two weeks melting into my mattress refusing to move. usually in my previous depressive episodes, i'd binge the entirety of netflix; eating, crying, drinking, and dissociating with the world around me. essentially doing anything to escape from my own reality is how i'd cope.

the difference is now that i never touched any source of social media. i left my phone uncharged, and my macbook on the opposite side of my room. i lived the past three hundred and thirty-six hours laying boneless in my bed, whenever i'd eat or go to the bathroom if used up all of my energy within seconds.

physically my body became so weak that the littlest of tasks for example; brushing my hair or teeth, felt as if they were the biggest chores for me to do. i became disgusted with myself yet too tired to do anything about it.

i considered every different scenario of mine and billie's break up so many times i began to forget which concepts i'd made up inside my head were real. unfortunately, the words she yelled at me played on the loop like a broken record. when she called me twisted and then proceeded to shout out my full name it caused my organs to flinch inside my body.

the strangest part about the aftermath is that my first thought was to call billie and tell her everything that happened as if she wasn't the girl i'd been arguing with. that's how surreal my atmosphere became for me.

surprisingly, throughout this fortnight of depression my father had been attending therapy and alcoholics anonymous meetings every day without fail. he'd even asked if i was feeling any better from time to time or when i'd be returning back to school, since my dad thinks i'm sick there's only so long i could use the excuse before it became suspicious.

my world had spun a three sixty and it confused me beyond belief. finally, my father had been acting like a parent for the first time ever and it absolutely petrified me. although i wondered how long it'd last since my dad had never even considered nor admitted that he had a problem.