~How many times have people picked up a pen or paintbrush when they couldn't pull the trigger? - virginia Woolf ~
Akansha's pov
A few days later
Apparently the guy who damaged my car and the guy who I shouted on aandd the guy who caught me by my waist, is my boss, no wait a minute, he is the owner of the company, I'm working in right now.
My life is fucked.
Fucked is an understatement it's something much more than fucked.
But the thing is when I looked into his eyes I don't know why but his eyes softened. Anyways I don't think that he'll ever like me, he so rude to everyone in the office, like mr. Could you please smile for once.
Now I'm regretting saying that I liked him, how could I like someone who is so rude and arrogant.
"You are good for nothing akansha"
"I just used you"
"Ohh look how the innocent girl fell for the bad boy, how did you even think for one second that I could actually like you, have you even looked at yourself in the mirror"
The thoughts of my past started occupying my head and within a few minutes I found myself on the floor of my bedroom, gasping for breath, my head heavy with thoughts and my eyes blurry from tears.
The following scene contains images of panic attacks and self harm, only read if you're comfortable⚠️
I am a sensitive person from the start, even when I am angry I cry ,but right now I am not angry, I am frustrated because every time I thought about that day, I couldn't breathe even though it happened 8 years ago, I was a kid back then.
My gaze suddenly went to the table and there I saw a cardboard cutter, and that was it, I knew I was in it again, self harming was something i turned to every time i was not okay. and i know that it's not the right thing, hurting yourself is not right, i know that but sometimes all you need to feel alive is a little blood. I was clean from a very long time but today it seemed like The only thing that could help me, my eyes filled with tears and my hands shaking, It took a lot of energy but I got up and went towards my table, before I could pick up the cutter, I saw my diary.
That diary had been with me through some very tough times of my life, so Instead of the cutter, with heavy hands I picked up the pen, and started writing.....
The next morning
I woke up to the sound of my alarm and found myself sleeping on my table, as I recalled the events of yesterday.
Yash..
Me on the floor...
Cutter..
Diary..
I got up and went into the washroom, and let the cold water run over me for a while, then I got ready and went down.
"Good morning lovelies" I greeted them with a smile on my face, I never let them know if something was wrong with me because they worried too much and I don't like it when anyone worry's about me, even though being the youngest i was never pampered, because no one was ever there.
"Good morning mere bache, sleep well?" My mom asked, with a smile on her face.
"Not at all maa, I had a panic attack again"
