Feel Better ~ Byler

Chapter 6 - The Bathroom

TW: This chapter is going to be intense, mentioning SH in more detail than before. Please do not read if you will be triggered by this! This story is based on the actual events in my life this past May, I am not just putting these characters through trauma that I created. If you think this chapter will be damaging to your personal health, please do not read this! If you are safe to read, enjoy!

Will's POV:

It's tactless it's a test, it's just Therese, it's just Therese. Music flowed into my ears as I walked down to the most remote bathroom in the school. The downstairs bathroom, I spent a lot of time there. The walls were colorful, the stalls painted like various tropical locations. But the real reason I liked this bathroom so much was because the outside door had a lock on it. I could be in there, alone.

She empathizes with your feelings, she's more interested in the ceilings. I opened the door to the bathroom and looked under the stalls for any sign of life. It was empty, like usual. I shut the door carefully. I turned the lock, trapping myself inside the bathroom which somewhat tormented me.

I had stolen something from my art classroom that morning. I had walked in there and simply taken it from the small container of them on the teacher's desk. I looked around the classroom, making sure no one saw me. They didn't, for the most part, they were fixated on their phones or- whatever they were up to. I slipped it into my pocket and walked right out of the classroom, heading down to my current spot. What had I stolen?

A red Exacto knife. It read "blick" on the label, the sharp end of the weapon equipped with a cap that seemed to be fixated strongly on the knife. The sharp tip had broken off on this one leaving a rugged (but still dangerous) end. I sat down on the least disgusting part of the bathroom floor. Therese by Maya Hawke was still pouring through my headphones, giving me a minimal sense of comfort.

I looked at myself in the long mirror that sat across from me. How had I gotten to this point? To the point where I would do anything to harm myself anywhere I could. How did no one notice? How did no one care?

I felt tears forming in my eyes eager to explore my cheeks. I just watched myself start to sob in the body-length mirror. My body shook and tremored with the weight of my emotions spilling out of my eyes, but I felt numb. I felt everything at once but also numb. I felt like I was floating above my body, detached from the world and above everything that was troubling me.

This happened often, just not at school.

I let my stifled sobs continue just so that I could feel some sense of relief. Really, there was only one type of way I could feel relief anymore. I felt my pocket, making sure the stolen knife was still in there. I slipped my hand into my pocket and took it out. The metal on the rims was still cold, the red plastic having been heated up by my body heat. I was really about to do this.

I stood up and faced myself in the mirrors above the sink. My eyes were puffy and red, still holding the weight of my emotions in them. My eyebags were now pronounced in the mirror, and my eyes were bloodshot. I brushed my hair out of my face and inhaled.

I pulled up the left sleeve of my sweatshirt, letting my disfigured arms breathe outside of the shower for the first time in a while. I uncapped the knife and brought it to my arms. I slashed, once, twice, four times, and I went until I felt the relief I needed. My arms were bloodied and screaming for me to stop, but all I could feel was my emotions all washing away. It felt like the emotions and pain I had been feeling were rushing out through the gashes in my arm.

And then the regret. Holy shit, I just mutilated myself at school. In the school bathroom. I just relapsed in the school bathroom. I held my left arm straight out and rushed to my backpack. I always kept two long cloth bandages in there in case of- incidents. I grabbed one and took myself back to the sink, turning the water on. I stuck my forearm under the running water and hissed sharply as the water scratched and struck at my new wounds. My arms were screaming for help- but it felt... good. And I hated that.

I was so messed up. So messed up that this felt- relieving. I was a horrible person, I was so selfish and fucked up. These thoughts always rushed through my brain in moments like this. I turned off the water and grabbed a heap of paper towels. Water and blood-soaked I set them to the side. I couldn't throw those away- they needed to go somewhere no one would find them.

I sighed and started to wrap my searing arms in the bandage. I watched myself in the mirror as I was doing it, I didn't even recognize the person I saw there. I tightly secured the bandage and slipped the sleeve back over my arm. I flushed the paper towels down the toilet and fell back down by my backpack.

Why did I do that? Why couldn't I have waited until I got home? Jesus Christ, everything hurt so bad. No one would realize I was gone either- since I barely attended my classes. And my school was horrible with notifying parents when a kid didn't show up to their classes.

I laid my head down on my backpack, hiding in my hood. No one would even come into this bathroom- it was so rarely used. I let myself drift off into sleep, the one place I wasn't miserable. And through all of this Maya Hawke was still playing.

I was born yesterday, and I'm still wet, still soaking. And I want to love a boy the way I love the ocean.

AUTHORS NOTE

Good lord, if you made it through that chapter you got some balls. It's a lot more intense than the past ones, I really trauma-dumped into this one.

If this chapter was hard for you to read- please don't make yourself read the rest of this book.

Also,  I write to Maya Hawke's music, it's so nice.

I hope you have a nice rest of your day! Drink water, do things for yourself, and take care of yourself. Sincerely, Will <3

Word Count: 1136