Beyond ONE Night

2~Oh my God~2

TW: MURDER, SELF HARM MENTIONS, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS/MENTIONS

The only blood I thought I was going to get on my hands was mine, but boy I was wrong.

It's been about a year since I've moved out of my house. My body was practically damaged from self harm and beatings, I was going to therapy but it of course didn't help. Me and Zoé were living together. You'd think that my life has improved, I mean it's not like I didn't try to recover from my childhood. I took the antidepressants, and I even tried therapy! Plus even if I stopped and I relapsed and returned to my old habits, how is that her business? It's not my fault she..

...
I thought this as I ran. Ran from my hometown Stratford, to no exact destination. Just away. Away from the sirens.

Stop it. You have to take responsibility.
You killed someone. The ONLY person who actually loved you. You don't deserve to cry. You're not aloud to cry, Zoé's killer.

My vision turned black as my throat was stale dry. My ears were ringing with the screams of Zoé. The knot in my throat swelled as I remembered what I did.
                               ~
Flashback
                        
Zoé gave me a cup of orange juice and a peanut butter and jelly sand-which. She gave me a comforting but however misty smile and gave me my food. "No alcohol?" I asked half heartening while sipping my orange juice. "I'm so hard to be sober for you and this is how you repay me?" Zoé huffed humorously. I stopped. Soberity. I was lying to her. To my best friend. "So uh, are we going to keep playing dumb?" Zoé said this with a more serious tone. "I know you haven't been taking those pills." I froze in terror. She knew that I lied. I got angry suddenly. Why was it her problem? Why did she act all innocent and goody two shoes? Why did she act like cared. She didn't. Fuck her. Acting like she's my mother.
..
My mother.
I wanted to strangle that mother fucker. All of my misery came from my mom. The physical and verbal fights. All because she wants attention. She doesn't love her child. She never did. I don't give a shit about her problems. I was a child. A damn child.
My vision was misty red. I didn't realize I was holding a knife. A kitchen knife.
Oh god.
The knife was covered with blood. Red fresh blood. I looked around my self to try to find the source. My heart dropped. I knew what I've done. I looked down.
...
Oh my god.
Oh my god.
I killed someone.
I'm going to jail.
I killed Zoé.
She must've attacked me.
She must've force fed me antidepressants.
She would never do that.
I killed someone.
An innocent person.
Oh my god.
My hands quivered as I dropped the knife. I didn't want to look at her face. I ran as quick as I can to the sink to throw up. My hands were covered with blood. There wasn't any reason I killed her. I'm a murderer.
As a kid I never cried. I've been through hell and back. But I saw myself with tears in my eyes. I'll never see her again. She's gone. Oh god. What if she's in a bad place. I can't protect her. I'm a bad person. There was many things I could've said to myself. But I found myself crying. Running as far away as possible. The neighbors would sense the smell of her.. I swallowed a lump as I thought of her decomposing body. Sorry couldn't fix this mess, what I did was permanent, and I'll never get the chance to say thank you to her.
                             ~
Present time

A recap of what happened about 2 days ago haunted me as I sat on a bench, shivering in the night. I was in Bridgeport, as I was told by a homeless calculator wandering, looking for a shelter. I looked back at the stars, who were staring at me with accusation. I cuddled up on the bench and thought I was a criminal. There's no point in trying to get better in my relapse, or that small hope of going to college. I tossed and turned at the thought of college. Me and Zoé were planning on going together. Now she's.. dead. I looked out in my surroundings, seeing a bar that brought light to the dull city of sorrowful shops and buildings. I was tempted to go in, seeing the silhouette of a candle, bottle, rock, and other far away shapes, but I figured that now wasn't the time to get drunk, especially when I have priorities to survive. I walked around the tree lined street with lamps glistening around the sidewalk.

I entered the neighborhood. It was full of middle class houses but one particularly caught my eye. A house thats was white and black as in modern colors, polished and had trimmed bushes. The door was a beautiful wood and the house was lit up, there seemed to be multiple people there, like a party. I walked in the unlocked door. It wasn't a party, it was a house full of random people fighting over who should get the house. A moldy toast was particularly angry. I snuck around the people and went into the kitchen, looking for food. Not a bad place. I don't know what I'll do, but since nobody is caring, I guess I'll stay here for a while. I leaned on the stove. God how much I wanted to be held by someone and comforted. But I had to be strong, for Zoé.
You can't use her for an excuse, you coward.
Shut up.
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Chapter 2 is posted! How do y'all like this story so far? Sorry these are short, but the real fun is just starting 😈 Anyways credit to my friend Lean who was so kind to provide me with his background.