To rebuild our home

8

Jon's POV

I only noticed that I cut myself when I felt a stinging coming from my hand. The cut wasn't deep but there was still a lot of blood flowing out of it, also the knifes had some of my blood on them. Still I pulled the knifes out of the dishwasher and wiped the blood away from the knifes. I examined my cut and watched mesmerized the blood as it was running down this gashing wound.

Somehow the cut wasn't as unpleasant as I thought it would be. It felt oddly satisfying and like something that I deserved. The physical pain somehow soothed my emotional pain and watching the blood leave my body left me in a calm state as if my negative emotions were slowly fading.

This could be my punishment, maybe this is a sign. Maybe I deserve this cut or even more, Eduardo loves to see me in pain and misery from what I could tell, so maybe doing this would also make him happy. I need to suffer, l need to cut myself. Maybe then I can be a better person for Eduardo since the pain is the only way from what I can learn from my mistakes and a way in which I can distract myself from my negative emotions. A way to remind myself that I am a disappointment, worthless and unwanted here with every new mark that I would leave behind on my skin. A mark like the one on my chest from the missle, that would also always remind me of my near death experience.

But maybe Eduardo nor Mark should see the marks that I leave behind on my body, because then they would probably think that I have become insane or something or even yell at me for doing things that normal people wouldn't do. Or they could also enjoy watching me bleed out, but I am not going to risk doing this in front of them, I don't want to get kicked out of here or something for being seen as a weird person or so, because otherwise I would have no place to go. Well, I shouldn't care about whether I get kicked out or not, but still I don't want to anger them more I want to become a better person. If I don't turn into the roommate that they wanted then I punish myself until I become a better version of me.

I would love to give Eduardo the pleasure of seeing me die, but I am not sure if I can really kill myself. The thought of death makes me fearful. I have no other option left then to punish myself and hope for the best I guess. Still I feel bad that they have to deal with this sorry excuse of a human, this waste of space. Tears began to well up in my eyes as I thought back about what Eduardo had said. The words endlessly repeated in my head and shouted at me as my self hatred grew.

I couldn't resist anymore. I ended my task on putting back the dishes in their right place and stared back at my wound. The blood already stopped dripping down my skin. I knew what I needed to do, I grabbed one of the now cleaned up knifes and carried it with me in my room. It was a smal yet a sharp knife.

I decided to make some cuts on my arms and placed the blade of the knife with my shaky right arm on my left arm. The blade was cold and I got goose bumps on the area where I holded the knife onto. I wasn't ready to to slice into my soft skin, yet again I felt like I must do this. So I took all of my courage, closed my eyes and applied lightly some pressure on the blade before I moved it across my skin.

When I was done I opened my eyes and saw the gashing wound on my skin and the blood as it was slowly rising through this gash building small droplets of blood. It might seem twisted, but I felt some sort of relief after this. The voices in my head that were telling me that I wasn't worth anything went silent and Eduardo's words weren't repeating as often and as loudly in my head as before. Still I didn't felt that strong stinging as I did before and also I felt like I should go deeper if I wanted this to be a punishment, so I went for it again.

This time I applied more pressure, but still I had my eyes closed shut as I dragged another red line through my arm under the last one. This time more blood came out of my body and the stinging was stronger. It hurts, but I deserve this I told myself as tears were rolling down my cheeks. I repeated this again and again. I made one mark for being useless, another for being worthless, another for only causing problems, another for being a burden and the last one for still not being dead and so on.