life

trust

Clay POV

I got out of the hospital after three days.
My hand is slowly healing but I'm not allowed to move it that much.

I'm allowed to go to school, sadly, but the teachers know that I can't write with the hand, so they just hand me the paper over.

"You're so stupid." it laughs as I watch a picture of George on my phone "staring at him just because you kissed."

Those voices are becoming worser and worser each day. They're coming up often now, even when it's something normal like this, and they're getting louder.

I'm starting to get scared of myself to be honest.

Suddenly George texts me.
"Can you open the door?"

It's the middle of the night what is he doing outside!
I quickly go downstairs and open the door to see a crying George.

Sniffing with red eyes, completely wet and his hair is messed up.

"Whats wrong?" I quickly pull him inside but he doesn't say anything, he just cries.

I pull him into a hug, not knowing what exactly to do.

"I can't- I can't control myself." he hiccups.
I put my hand on the back of his head and pet it.

"what do you mean?" I ask him. George tries to control himself, he tries to talk but the tears won't let him.

They're stopping him from doing anything.

"Look what you've done to him."
"You made him cry."

"Relax, just breath." I pull him, without breaking the hug, to the sofa.

"Don't try to make you look good."
"It's your fault."

It's not my fault.
"It is."
"It's not-"
"It is!"

"I couldn't stop taking the drug." He says "it went by- it broke- my parents saw me."
"Don't you wanna take therapy?" I ask "I want to, I'll, but that doesn't mean I can stop right away."

I break the hug and look into his red eyes before I wipe tears away. "You got this." I smile at him "you're George."

He stares into my eyes while tears keep building up and rolling down his cheeks but I catch every single one of them.

"I'm sorry." He apologises "don't apologise." I tilt my head with a smile "I hurt you." he then says "I hurt you and you didn't say anything until it got really bad."

I keep my mouth shut since I don't know what to respond.

George also stays quiet now, he just stares into my eyes. The pain in his eyes is hurtful.. more hurtful than stabbing me, stabbing into my hand.

"It's okay." I whisper "it was past, wasn't it?"
He keeps staring into my eyes "I know it was past- well not really since-" I cut him off "George!"

"It was past. Lets not talk about it ever again, okay?" I wipe another tear "it won't happen again, I swear." he whispers.

"Fuck, you know he's going to hurt you."
"It doesn't really matter in what way."
"He'll hurt you physically and mentally."