Dawnlight - WORK IN PROGRESS

3. Early-Morning

(  Ey, Author here: feel free to skip this chapter as it contains depictions of self harm, drug misusage, & dark/existential themes. Please read at your own discretion )

(  Oh, and a bonus, chapters will start updating to a schedule after this publish.  )

I heard the sounds of birds chirping. I opened my eyes to notice that I had been asleep for a while, as the sun beamed through the blinds. I felt awfully warm.

Then I remembered, ah. Cody and I fell asleep together. He was sleeping right on my chest, hugging me quite tightly. I was hugging him, too. I froze, panicked, thinking of ways I could possibly get out of bed without waking him. I tried multiple tactics, trying to push him away didn't work. Trying to squeeze myself out of his grip didn't work. Out of desperation, I reached behind myself and grabbed his arms. As quickly as I could, I practically threw him off of me; I was terrified that he was going to wake up, but he just rag-dolled there. Maybe I overreacted.

With that out of the way, I crawled to the edge of the bed and grabbed my phone. Fuck. I missed 12 texts and 3 calls from my mom. The most recent one, 20 minutes ago, a message that read 'Come home now, we need to talk.' Christ, about what? She's always on my ass. It's probably because I slept in and she needs her car. Nonetheless, I grabbed all of my stuff, and left the house before anybody else woke up.

—

Stepping foot to the front door, I unlocked it and went straight to my room. Awaiting me was my Mother, standing right next to my desk, holding my bottle of pills.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

"Explain this," She demanded, pointing to my trash can.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said. My heart was beating. It shouldn't be. I continued to walk over to my bed, but the bitch pulled on my sweater and forced me to acknowledge her statement.

"Explain this, Noah! Why are they in the trash?!" She exclaimed, opening the empty pill bottle.

"You're overreacting! The dog knocked them in there," I retaliated.

"The dog isn't here, she left last night. You would have known if you saw your grandparents pick her up yesterday, but no! You
left with my car to see your friends, stayed overnight, and you didn't take your pills!" She yelled to my face. Shit, I really fucked up. I was hoping that this was just about the car.

"You said I could!—"

"Do you even know how hard I worked to afford those antidepressants, Noah?! All of those appointments with the psychiatrist?!—"

"I didn't ask for those appointments, Mom! I forgot to bring my fucking pills, so what?!" I started to shake. She's so quick to jump to conclusions. I'm so fucking sick of her. "Please, leave me the fuck alone, it's just some knocked over pills!"

"There's so many," She argued, "This bottle was supposed to be finished by the end of the week ... Why haven't you been taking your pills?!"

"My life is none of your goddamn business!" I yelled, feeling myself start to tear up. I couldn't think of any further defense, she found out. I wish I just didn't go to Izzy's. I wish I had flushed the pills instead.

"You have an appointment tomorrow, and you're not skipping it," She demanded.

I began to scratch my head, trying to muffle my sobs to no avail. I screamed, "I didn't like the way they felt! Let me live my own fucking life, mom! I'm sick of this bullshit!"

"I'm sick of your bullshit, Noah! You better put those pills back in the fucking bottle and start taking them," She demanded once more, before storming out of my room and slamming the door.

"Fuck off," I muttered, hunching over my bed, letting out uncontrollable sobs. Everything was ruined. I ruined everything. I want to fucking kill myself.

I was shaking far too much. I needed to do something; something to bring a balance to my misery. I punched myself in the face as hard as I could, feeling my lip bust. I ran to my restroom and grabbed a broken razor from my cabinet. I took out the blade. I don't deserve to love, I don't deserve to be loved. I don't deserve help, I don't deserve anything. I cut my lips, all around the fresh bruise, and watched the blood pour down my chin. I stared endlessly into the reflection, staring into the helpless freak that stood on the other side.

I hate everything. My friends would be better off without me. My mom would be better off without me. My family would be better off without me. Everyone would.

I felt the rush leaving me.

No, no, no. I'm not done, I'm not done yet.

I backed up to my bathroom wall and fell to the ground, I could barely make out the voice calling out to me, the door opening; I fell asleep.