New to this - The Black Phone, Brance.

'Ruined.'

Tw for child neglect/abuse(?)mentions of sh, alcohol/drug abuse, mentions of suicide, idrk.

—Vance pov—

I didn't know where to go, but I can't stay at this hell of a school. I can't go home either. If my mom finds out I'm home early she'll be the last person I see, that's if she's drunk and wants to end everything quickly.

I want to end everything quickly.

Fuck it, she probably won't even notice I'm home.

I'm heading home, if that's what I can call it. It feels more like a prison, once I'm in I can't get out. Once I'm in I get yelled at for hours. Once I'm in food is almost impossible to find.

I like the feeling of starvation, I haven't felt it in a while. I spent most of the week at Bruce's and his made sure I was well fed, wish I had a mom like her. He also had a dad, not just a dad, a dad active in his life. A dad who loved and supported him. A little sister too. A happy family.

That's all I've wanted, and Bruce already has it.

I have an alcoholic mom, she's either always at work or at home getting drunk with a new guy. When she's sober and at home she acts like a loving mom, something I want. But it all goes to hell in a matter of seconds. She's sober and angry, I find it worse 'cause she's aware of her actions. Aware she's hurting me.

Pain feels good, but only when I do it to myself. A special box sits in the corner of my room. It contains vapes, cigs, razor blades, weed, and a small container of alc, I refill it every once in a while when my mom is passed out on the couch. It ruins my body, my mind, but that's okay, the sooner I die the sooner I get out of hell. Get out of hell and enter limbo. Not heaven, not hell.

Limbo.

I can get in there temporarily, I like it. So why not go permanently?

...

When I get home I can try.

Pain to push aside this feeling of emptiness.

Who's to fault of this emptiness?

Me.

Always me. Everything is my fault. I ruin everything, everyone. I can't have shit. I can't do shit, I'll always leave something or someone in pain, broken some would say, but that's cringey as fuck.

I'm home.

Why am I scared to open the fucking door?

I force my body to move.

The door knob turns.

I walk in.

She's on the couch passed out.

But something's wrong.

There's no signs of her breathing.

Fuck.

I always knew this day would come, but why today.

Fucking ruins everything.

Guess we have that in common.

I call 911.

She'll kill my for that.

Putting her in debt.

Like I care.

I call my dad too.

Why?

I don't know.

It felt like the right thing to do.

Maybe he'll come pick me up.

Take me from this hell to another.

They arrive shortly.

My dad rushes in hugging me.

I can't hug back.

My body is frozen.

I hear voices shouting.

I see bright lights.

I feel weak.

I wake up in a hospital bed with my dad beside me.

"What the hell Vance?" My dad asks angrily and worriedly. He can never express one emotion at a time.

"Huh?"

"You had fucking drugs in your system? I thought you'd be better than your mother." He sounds disappointed, angry, worried. Just upset overall.

"Thank you for worrying." I say sarcastically.

"Don't give me that attitude, you're getting transported to a psych ward in the morning."

"WHAT??" Of course I never think of the consequences to my actions.

You really fucked yourself this time Vance.

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638 words.