"You're Going to Be Okay." || JJK - SatoSugu

Prolouge - 0

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It all began here. A Tuesday, December twenty-forth, Christmas Eve. An unfortunate date, really.

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Too tired to get out of bed, too anxious to stay down, I constantly tossed in bed. Each turn, the frame creaked quietly, reminding me of the fact I'm overweight. I can't ever lose anything, no matter how much I try.

My legs hurt, I don't want to move, but I can't still. It's as if my body acts on its own. I want to get up, but I don't want to face the pain, I don't want the burden of having to carry myself around. Even my chest hurts, my arms, too. I made a bad mistake last night. Maybe taking a pill or using an eraser would've been a better option.

I try to distract myself quickly as I get up, my eyes land on the walls, and how they have an orange hue from the window. I wish blocking the light out was easier, it's woken me up from my sleep too many times.

I wish that sleep could've been permanent.

I walk silently, the cold floor beneath my feet. I stop in front of the mirror, taking in the sight. The clothes that have been begging to be washed, the messy bed head, the scars, the scabs, the sick pale look. Everything. I hate it all. I truly, hate it all. It's my fault. Everything is always my fault. But does it ever get any better?

What quickly scares me out of the torturous trance is my alarm, the sound irritating yet comforting. The beginning of an iconic guitar riff, played live with the beckoning, loud voice of a New Jersey man. I move quickly towards my nightstand, reading the title of the song I already know, and turning the alarm off. The bottle of pills just a few inches away from my phone taunts me. It laughs like it wants me to take more. An amazing way to start the day, Thank You For The Venom, live on MTV. It's like the song wants me to take them too. Wrong song, wrong time. But one can't hurt.

The pill bottle finds its way to my hands, slowly unscrewing the lid and setting it back on the nightstand. The almost normal routine. I shake a single pill out onto my palm, ignoring the rest of my arm to the best of my ability. I set the bottle down, hearing the clank of pills and the tap of the plastic as I look around my room for a liquid of some sort to take the substance in my hand. Not a single liquid in sight sets the mood sour. It's just a Tylenol pill, it feels so foreign yet so much like home. "Fuck it." I whisper, and swallow the pill with my own spit, the sour and paste-like taste invades my mouth, sending a disgusted feeling throughout my body. But I have to get dressed. Do I have to?

I guess not. I have nothing planned today. But I want to get out of these clothes. I want to be able to be happy today but I know nothing I want will ever happen. I didn't want to take a pill, I did. I didn't want to use the razor, I did. I never wanted Riko to be assassinated, she was. She didn't deserve to die. It was like I could watch as her spirit- her soul passed on. At that exact moment, as her body fell to the floor, I could just see her wave me goodbye, her last words and the sight of it all ringing in my head. I could see the despair her soul had, the last memories of her short life flashing before her. I could see me in there, I could see Satoru. I could see Kuroi. I could see everything. And it hurt. I wanted to give her more of that, more memories and a title we could all remember her by when she was ready. I wanted to try and absorb her soul, have her continue living with me forever. But I knew it wouldn't work, and the shock and pain made it all worse, and I knew she wouldn't have wanted that. I never wanted it to be this way.

I should shut up before I curse her.

But what I do want, well, I want to die. I want to fall into a deep sleep so I don't hear, see, feel, smell, or live anything. I want to rip all my skin off and watch as I bleed, cry as I slowly succumb to the darkness of hypothermia and blood loss. I deserve it. I deserve to be skinned alive, rubbed in salt, and thrown into a pool, and as I'm about to die from all of it, I deserve to be thrown into a volcano. Because all of this is my fault. I messed up the one fucking job I had. I messed it up so bad that I'm drowning in the shit and guilt of it all. I want to rip all of my hair out, and donate it for wigs, rip my eyes out and sell them, give away my kidneys, and drink enough poison that my heart or lungs stop. Maybe that could atone for my sins.