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!self-harm, relapsing, mentions of suicide!
I groan as I rub my tired eyes that can't seem to rest and sit up before hopping out of bed.
The boys have been barely in the house recently because of "work" for the past two and a half weeks, but I don't see what job makes you look like you were in a sacrificial ritual. They explained that they only kill deserving people but I'm only worried about if they get caught.
Anyway in that time Theo has been replacing his absence with notes everywhere, and I mean everywhere. in drawers, in between my clothes, inside my books, in the fridge, literally any spot you can think of he's putting a ripped piece of paper or a sticky note on.
I walk down the stairs into the kitchen looking for some juice. I open the fridge and open the bottom drawer of the fridge to see my apple juice and another note.
"Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; Where little fears grow great, great love grows there"
-Hamlet, Shakespeare
He always has the most delicate and fancy writing, just like his personality.
I grab some apple juice and some yogurt before looking for some silverware. I searched the large kitchen's drawers before I open one that was quite hidden and I see all of the hidden knives.
I take a glance around as if I'm committing a crime and grab a black kitchen knife and slip it into my waistband.
I grab my apple juice, yogurt, and the now found spoon and make my way back to my room.
⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎
My sleeve wipes the never-ending flow of tears off my face only for new ones to appear.
I used the knife to pry open the razor I found in Syn's bathroom, I'm a burglar, I know. I just couldn't help myself.
The blade pops out and makes a loud echo through my empty bathroom, I'm quick to pick it up.
I hate that I can't control myself but the thoughts won't stop, endless torment.
I just need a distraction for a few seconds.
After I got the bath started I started undressing quite impatiently.
Get undressed before grabbing the blade carefully and slipping into the tub of warm water.
I sigh in contentment when the comforting feeling of the heat relaxes my aching body.
I lay back and move my wrist in front of me and survey the scabs of the wounds I did weeks ago before I was caught.
Just one.
I bring the blade to my pale skin and press down and swipe. The familiar promise of a sting brings me peace for a second before I'm craving more.
