Eden

Chapter 18

Warning! This chapter contains mentions of self-harm, substance abuse, and suicide.

Devin's POV:

I sighed as I lifted myself from my bed. I could barely stand. My whole body ached. My stomach was eating me alive, tearing at me from the inside out. My hip hurt when it rubbed against my trousers as I walked. I hissed, reveling in the pain. I pulled my shirt up and unbuttoned my jeans, peeling away the fabric to reveal the fresh lines of disfigured flesh.

It's okay, don't cry. You deserve this at least.

I stared at them emptily. The marks would heal over time and simply become one with the many, many others. If I let them heal, that is. I covered myself up and walked to the bathroom so I could freshen up for my outing with Vincent.

To be honest, I don't think me going out is a good idea. But with how excited he seemed with the idea of him being alone with me, I couldn't resist. I mean, someone wanted to hang out with me. It wouldn't be fair to him if were to cancel. No, no, no. if I did that, he could decide never to see me again, he could get so mad that he makes all our friends stop hanging out with me, too. And I don't want that.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror and almost laughed. I looked like shit. My tummy vibrated, warning me for the umpteenth time today. I grabbed the bottle of pills that helped to suppress my appetite and took a handful of them with a swig of alcohol. I also took some other 'medication' that I bought from some guy in an alley in the main city.

Aside from today at lunch, force-feeding because I didn't want questions I didn't have answers to, I don't remember the last time I ate. Days? Weeks? Hours? I have no idea. My life has been a blur these past few weeks, everything swirling and molding into each other like watercolors. I ran my hand through my hair and considered styling it.

No.

I looked at myself one last time and decided that I would have to at least look presentable. I wouldn't want to disappoint him, now, would I? I grabbed the foundation that I had grown so accustomed to using and began applying a light layer to my face, covering up the streaks and the dark circles coveting my eyes.

I applied some powder on the spot where my neck joined my skull, the bruise from the rope three days still lingering there, taunting me. I'd finally decided to go through with it, be 'reincarnated' in a better body, a better family, and a place where I'm loved for just existing, not left behind.

I had tied the noose and hung it from my ceiling and climbed the chair, the rope constricting me. I kicked the chair from underneath me and dangled for a few seconds, my legs kicking as my body began struggling for breath. I remember the white hot pain that started from my neck and spread through my limbs, forcing tears out of my eyes. Then I remember thinking it was over, when all of a sudden I fell painfully on the floor, my body forcing me to take mouthfuls of air.

I shuddered at the memory.

I added a lot more powder to conceal the marks of the rope.

After that, I decided to change into something looser so that it wouldn't hurt too much when it rubbed against my waist. That would keep him from asking questions, and keep him from being disappointed.

Keep him from leaving.

With a shaky breath and shaky legs, I walked to the mirror, steeled myself, and drew on my persona, my mask; the Devin they knew.

I stared at the stranger in the mirror, his smile, his pearly whites, his crooked yet sexy nose, his lazily styled hair, and his plump lips.

I was disgusted with myself. Disgusted with the fact that I was such a failure that I couldn't even make up a persona that was good enough to not be left behind. It was expected, of course, that the time would come when my steps would slow and they would walk ahead, not ever noticing. It was expected that the time would come when I would only catch wind of their fun on the odd day that I had enough life in me to seek humor in social media, only finding heartache.