TW: Self Worth issues, body dismorphia
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"It's not your fault Wally, okay? And keep him safe home."
It is my fault. It's all my fault.
I shouldn't have invited them. I went no contact for a reason, but he was my best friend so I had to. I thought I could push it down, just for a week, but that was stupid. I am stupid.
Now they think exactly what my parents think.
That I'm worthless.
That I'm dumb.
That I'm too immature to be independent.
At this point I'm pacing, breath quickening, but not of sadness.
Of anger.
I continue to pace, towards who knows where. It doesn't matter anyway. I suddenly bump into the counter, almost setting me off, but I catch sight of a mirror.
Everything looks wrong. My hair is matted, I have eye-bags, I can suddenly taste my teeth. And my body...
my hips...
my thighs...
my- "NO!"
I break the mirror. I can hear the glass shatter, shattering the person staring back at me. I can feel the glass stab my hand; I can feel the warm blood slowly trickling down my hand.
I want to break more.
I rip the shower curtain off it's hinges, ripping the curtain again for good measure. I broke the drawers, carrying different medicines, opening the bottles after, and tumble them onto the floor. Most were almost done anyway. I punch a hole in the wall, slam the shower-head onto the tub, over and over again, until it was only pieces of broken metal. I use the plunger to demolish the ceramic sink. I completely destroyed the bathroom, everything was broken. I could hear Home's protest. I didn't care, besides, the y don't need to care. It's not like they cared before. It's only because I'm destroying them.
I'm destroying Home.
I fall to the ground, my legs getting cut by the ceramic tiles and glass. I'm surrounded by hopelessness. I'm surrounded by the pieces of home.
"I'm so sorry. I ' m s o s o r r y . I ' m s o s o r r y "
I feel a pat on my back. It's home's cabinet, the one thing I forgot to break. They're not hurting me. They're comforting me. Why? I don't deserve their comfort. After what I just did, the damage I've caused, I don't deserve anyone's comfort.
"I need some fresh air Home." I say, getting up with weary legs. I stumble to the living room, where I hear, "And where is Leslie...(incoherent mumbling)"
My friends don't care about me. My parents don't care about me. Barnaby doesn't even care, he was just pretending wasn't he? To hurt me? Home can't care about me. I hurt them.
Why even go outside? It's not like they would notice if I were...
I want to...
I need a distraction.
I blink and suddenly, I'm in front of my easel, blood, no paint with blood all over my hands. The glass, still stuck in my hand makes it hurt as I slowly lose my grip on the brush, my knuckles no longer white. I look up to what I did. I was horrified.
That was me... cowering under pitch black eyes. Everything was bleeding. I was bleeding. Everything hurt looking at that canvas. It needs to be hid.
I suddenly hear a knock on home. I run, hiding it under the bed, sprint to the bathroom, now destroyed, grabbing a wrap bandage off the floor. I messily wrap the bandage around my hand, and stuffing my arm into my sweater and laying on the couch, dizzy, with black splotches, slowly infesting my vision.
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Hello again! I was so excited to write Wally's POV, and I finally did it! Now it's time to really get this show on the road. Have an amazing day or night!
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Wally Darling - An ANGST story
Fanfic(ON HIATUS) Wally was always perfect, at least that's what his friends thought. Leaving his old world behind, He tries to be happier in his new life. But what will happen when they both crash down on him? TW: self harm, suicide, abuse, discriminatio...
