One: Creation & Creator

Reality Check

[a/n]: This oneshot is unfortunately not a horror genre, but a realistic lifestyle.

Note: Writing this at 12:00 was not a good idea.

⚠️: Mentions of suicidal tendencies, eating disorder and a shitty roommate
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  Scrolling endlessly through the glowing screen of my colorful feed made to catch my low attention span, a fly keeps buzzing through my ear. My eyes were only occupied by the endless noise of the screen being shown.

The noise of the fly keeps being heard, yet I couldn't see it or interact with it, finally putting down the device down after the sound of my stomach reeling to eat itself alive.

My body followed its usual routine, heating up the leftovers my roommate made despite how trashy my life has been to make my roommate: Henle take care of me begrudgingly.

The slight turn of the off-white nob, the heating of the gas stove was so normal to me that I couldn't flinch at the sight of the blue fire below the cold pot.

The pot heated up slowly, my hand opening up the top of the pot, seeing the white solid oil below the well done meat made my appetite lower than usual. As I waited for the oil to melt, the spare spoon I held conveniently with the food was stirring the leftovers. Then, as I heard the sound of boiling oil and water, the nob was turned off.

Nearby, I grabbed a small bowl, enough for my small hand to cover it, and scooped up some leftover cold rice just enough to satisfy my stomach for a few hours, before my stomach reeks of hunger again.

The leftover meat was placed on top of the cold rice, and I ate quickly. The annoying fly noise was around, as I kept eating, making me not eat at all. I wanted to starve from the noise, but I knew it would make me go to the hospital again if I were to do that.

I still remember the old habits of throwing up whenever I ate something remotely large, which is just a average person's meal, but I noticed that now, the meal portions I ate are getting smaller every month; making my roommate seem somewhat worried.

But not worried about when I die.

We aren't friends per se, since he's just taking care of me, and just doing the bare minimum to keep me alive.

I walked to the trash can, not even wanting to take care of my basic needs anymore. My hand shook, pouring the bones and the gross part of the meat away into a separate trash can.

The call of my phone led me back to the endless scrolling, making me forget what important news or details about my wasted 20's, walking to the trashed place of my bedroom.

The bedroom looked cleaned, but I could still see the cobweb in the corner of my room, with the pile of clothes I couldn't bare to put the hanger in with the excuse of being lazy. But in reality I'm done of responsibility's, and I can't keep maintaining my friendships anymore without making the mood go down.

I can't ask Henle to hang out with me, because he's an absolute asshole to deal with whenever he comes back after being totally washed and wasted from the collage party.

The bedroom seemed filled with life, the blankets and pillows of the bed calling to me to sleep, but I couldn't be happy living a simple life like it. It's too cold without anyone around to hang out with, but it's better than hanging out with my roommate.

I wrapped myself in the blanket, allowing myself to let go of the worries I have tomorrow or any other day, hugging the cold pillow just to feel like I'm being with someone who loves me genuinely. It feels pathetic doing this once I realize that person isn't real, and is just a horrible coping mechanism to truly save me from my problems.

I tried to sleep, but my stomach keeps annoying me to do something to save itself from starving half to death. I haven't been drinking a single glass of water today, kicking out the blanket and pillow in anger.

My legs were groggily dragging me back to the kitchen for some water, reaching for the cupboard to get a glass. My fingers grabbed onto the glass, the image of the soap stains still etched onto it, pushing the glass into the fridge.

The water flows into the glass, stopping midway just to drink it fully, acting as a drunk person who just wants more drinks, but can't have anymore. I stared into the darkness around me, same feeling of the same event, but I knew nothing was there.

I dragged to the glass empty of water to the countertop, next to the dozen of dishes I would have to clean up by my roommates orders.

I limply went back to my bedroom again, turning to sleep, but my mind kept being distracted endlessly with the memories of the past and my recent thoughts about just ending it, right now.

For a moment, I reached out to my neck, just wanting the feeling of fighting to be alive again, my vision blurred off before I could even feel the oxygen in my lungs begging for air. The sound of the fly stopped, the room is dead silent.

My hands stopped holding my neck, slowly letting go before I could even black out or suffocate myself.  "I guess I still want to be alive tomorrow." I laughed at my own depraved joke, knowing that It won't be too long before my body gives up. After all, no one cares whether I die or not.