Escape - Wilbur angst

Chapter 34 - Getting comfy

Just clearing up, they're far in on 8th grade, around November, and most of them are fifteen now (including Wilbur, though he'd never told Phil or Techno about it). I wrote fourteen year olds in a previous chapter, but oh well.

TWs

Selfharm, underage smoking

Techno and Wilbur stood comfortably outside of the classroom, Schlatt having left about five minutes ago, but with the promise to return. Once he did, he smelled of smoke, and the brothers glared at him.

"What?" he asked.

"You're fifteen and smoking cigarettes." Techno retorted, causing Schlatt to roll his eyes.

Wilbur huffed in annoyance and his friend chuckled a bit. "It's not funny, you fuckwit." Wilbur spat. Schlatt patted his shoulder softly, ignoring the flinch.

"It'll be fine, big guy."

Wilbur muttered something under his breath and swatted Schlatt's hand away. "Alright, that's my cue to go. We'll discuss this later." he said the last part to Wilbur, who just fidgeted with his hands.

Both teens had been in a pissy mood, Techno because, well, he was angry and Wilbur because he had been two days clean now. It was scary not being in control, and he had been forced to be left alone with his bad feelings.

Mr. Jensen had been with them more often, though today he wasn't. Kristin came walking towards them, coffee in hand and a warm smile on her face.

"Good morning boys, are you ready for some Hamilton?" she greeted with a joking tone.

Techno rolled his eyes. "How are we not done with that yet?"

Kristin shrugged as she unlocked the door. The three entered, Wilbur and Techno sitting down by their seats. Wilbur scratched at his arms; he wanted the bandages gone. His brother glared at him.

"Can you not? Fucking hate that sound." he grumbled. Wilbur glared at him, but stopped nonetheless, mumbling something under his breath.

Kristin looked at them lovingly. "What's wrong, boys? You're never this... pissy."

Wilbur looked at everything except her, not wanting to give in to her motherly aura. Techno just shook his head.

The youngest took a deep breath, no longer bothering to try and be distant. If Kristin was offering, then he may as well.

"Phil decided to take away my one coping mechanism and now everything is shit." he muttered, anger tinting his voice.

Kristin looked at him, then glanced down at the bandages around his arms that had become visible when he was scratching them. She nodded.

"And you Tech?"

He just stared at her. They seemed to communicate through their eyes, and eventually Kristin won with a look saying, 'don't test me'. 

"Fine, I'm just angry in general, I don't know why."

"Can it not be the meds?" she asked, but Techno shrugged once again.

A comfortable silence fell amongst them, and eventually the rest of the students entered. Everyone sat down, not bothering to wait behind their chairs.

Hamilton was once again put on, and they thankfully only had about half an hour left. That wasn't enough for the whole lesson, but oh well.

Time went fast, and eventually it was over. Kristin looked at everyone.

"Unfortunately, I cannot let you go this early, but I say let's spend the rest of class doing whatever you want! You can play games, watch a movie, whatever. Take some rest if you'd like." she smiled. Everyone sighed in appreciation, finally, a good teacher.

A few kids laid down on their desks to nap, a few others started chatting but most happily opened their computers.

An idea crossed Wilbur's mind, he could just...

The razor still laid comfortably in his back pocket. Or well, not THE razor, but rather A razor. He had bought a pack after Phil took away all sharp objects.

But the two days felt oddly good. Yes the withdrawals were horrible, but it was nice to not have arms littered in cuts.

Yet the thought of his sinful relief was so tempting. He gave in and raised his hand. 

"May I go to the bathroom?" he asked quickly. Kristin nodded and he stood up before exiting the classroom. 

The suspicious glance from Techno didn't go unnoticed by him, but he acted as though nothing was wrong.

With a slight jump in his step, he made his way over to the bathroom, feeling like a kid about to steal a piece of candy from the cabinet. He entered the small space and sat on the toilet, glancing down at his now unwrapped arms. 

They looked horrible, healing scars everywhere and barely a single blank spot. But it was what it was, and he felt as though there wasn't enough, it never would be.

He picked up the fresh blade, twisted excitement in his body. 

Slowly he pressed the metal against his wrist, pressing down slightly. It pierced his skin, crimson blood escaping though the crack. He moved his hand sideways, burning pain across his wrist.

He sighed in relief, relishing in the way it all mixed into a smoothie of guilt, pain, and relief.

More red lines joined him, and soon he found himself with six cuts all over his wrist. Some were short and deep, others long and shallow.

He wrapped himself back up before heading outside. A few people were in the corridor, and his anxiety rose. How long had he been gone for?

When he looked in through the window, he saw that, to his relief, everyone was still there. He entered and went back to his seat. Glancing at the clock he realised that he had been gone for a whole ten minutes. It had only felt like two.

He nervously looked at Kristin, who's eyes were filled with pitiful regret.

Wilbur's head tilted in attempted confusion, though he knew she could see right through him.

She called him up to her, and when he looked at Techno he just glanced away, body language reeking of disappointment.

He stood in front of her. "Wilbur, you do have free time when the others have PE, no?" she asked.

Wilbur nodded. "Well, kind of. I'm always a teacher's responsibility, but I can pretty much do whatever. Why?"

"I was thinking maybe I could be your 'babysitter' for today? I'd like to talk with you about something." she offered. Wilbur glanced around the room nervously, was he really ready for that?

But he ended up nodding.

I have literally no motivation anymore. The counting down to post day are mocking me, but oh well.

- Bread