Floating Face Down (boyxboy)

Chapter Seven

I didn't even have the energy to beg Irene to not make me go on that trip. I couldn't muster up the words, I was so tired. Instead I fell on the floor in front of my room, Milk danced a little as he saw me and ran into me, looked up at me and stared for a moment, shoved his snout into my chest, and then looked up at me again. Sometimes I felt like he could see when I was sad, that he was concerned.

Colby came out of his room and saw me, blinking. "You alright?"

I nodded because I didn't have the energy to answer questions.

"Okay." He nodded. Glanced at Milk and then at me. "I don't think mom brushed his teeth this morning, she had too much to do."

I nodded, realising as I wiped my hot face that I was crying.

He didn't know what to say, I realised, he was younger than me after all. His big brother was sat on the floor outside his room crying. Embarrassing.

"Want me to brush his teeth?" He asked, shifting uncomfortably.

I nodded and finished petting Milk before slowly getting up.

Milk struggled for a moment, unwilling to follow Colby, which I appreciated more than I should have. He barked loudly and Colby sighed, taking him to the toilet with him. "Come on boy, let me brush your teeth."

Each room had a toilet connected to it, like I said we weren't poor exactly, but we still weren't the kind to have money on hand to pay for things, we didn't get an allowance we had to ask for money and guess who was less likely to get any?

In the past I always had to get Colby to agree with buying something I really wanted so that he would ask Irene instead. One time I'd heard Irene from upstairs, get irritated with Colby and sigh loudly. "Stop letting Elliot manipulate you into buying useless things. Don't listen to him." And Colby had come back upstairs and simply shook his head, and after that wouldn't ask for me anymore.

I wiped my face with my hand and headed into the toilet. Afterwards I put my hands on the counter, where the sink was, where the mirror faced me, and looked at my reflection.

Half of my face was red, like someone had slapped me over and over, and my ear had scabbed over. Other than that I only had the fading bruise on my face from before.

I looked at the razor on the counter.

I picked it up and felt my blood begin to run cold as I fiddled with it, eventually breaking it to remove the blade.

It was thinner than I thought, and more flexible.

My eyes filled with fresh tears, so that they stung and blurred my vision.

I put it against my skin but couldn't push. It wasn't that I didn't want to die, it really wasn't, I was just so afraid of dying.

So afraid of dying that my hands shook, and I opened my mouth, screaming out a silent scream, I never made a noise but I was in agony.

Please God, strike me down, let me feel a blast of lightening take me out, wipe my existence out of this earth. Stop my thoughts forever. I want peace. Please God. Please. If you exist, please. Please take me away. Please do something, anything. Don't make me live this life.

I looked at my blurred reflection in the mirror and licked my lips, left the razor on the counter and went to bed.

Didn't undress or brush my teeth or wash, just curled up under the covers and fell asleep before I could drag another unhappy thought to the surface.

Sadness felt like a cold weighted blanket on my skin, wrapping itself around me, freezing me.