Society Killed The Teenager

Chapter Fourteen/This Is Definitely Going To End Well

"Now it's very common with someone of his particular injury to have some personality changes right after surgery, but just give him some time and he'll come around."

My fist clenched tightly and I have the impulse to strangle him.

"What if his old personality never comes back?" I ask, my teeth clenched and the sense of hatred radiating off my skin like perfume.

The doctor shrugs and a nurse rushes over to him, whispering something in his ear and pulling him away.

"If you'll excuse me."

I turn towards Hunter's room again and see him talking to his parents with a sneer on his face, closely resembling Tyler.

I close my eyes and rub my temples.

What am I going to do?

💀💀💀

I went home and slammed my door shut, flopping on my bed and staring at my phone, waiting for something, anything, to happen.

But nothing does so I clamber off my bed and walk over to desk, grabbing my sharpie and starting a line from my wrist all the way up to my armpit.

Then I switch hands and make the same line on the other arm.

I cap the sharpie and blow on my arm, making sure that the ink is dry.

Don't ask why I drew the line, cause I don't even know.

Sometimes when I feel like cutting, I draw the places I want to cut with sharpie instead.

They've always been diagonal lines on my wrist.

This is the first line that (if I chose to trace it) would kill me.

💀💀💀

I wake up the next morning with a searing pain in my head and black ink smeared all over my arm and face.

I curse myself in the bathroom and scrub it off with soap and water.

I walk back to my room and check my phone to see if Hunter texted me, but only Adam did.

He said that he wanted to take my on a date so he could get to know me better.

I unlock my phone and text him back that we could meet at a pizza parlor that's right across from my house at 7:30.

I then switch to Instagram and see all kinds of posts about how sad they felt about Hunter's accident and how they wish that he'll get better soon and that no permanent damage was done.

I don't know why, but seeing post after post about this, it starts to make me mad.

They don't even know Hunter and they give more shits then my mom ever gave me my whole life and she's known me for 17 years.

I smack my phone on my nightstand and leave my room, walking down the stairs towards the kitchen so I can get some food.

My old baggy shirt flows as I skip down the stairs and head towards the kitchen, searching the cabinets for food. 

I finally find some pop-tarts and rip them out of the packaging and shove them down my throat, chewing and swallowing rapidly so that my mom and sister won't get up in time to see me. 

I crumple the wrapper in my hands and throw it in the trash, bounding back upstairs and walking in to my room and closing the door. 

I flop back on my bed and check my phone again, hoping that Hunter texted me or Adam did, but no such luck.