Lost It All (Andy Biersack)

One

"Hear your cries, praying for life, I will be there"

•

*TRIGGER WARNING: Self Harm and talks of self harm and panic attack*

•

*One month later*

Emily's POV

It's been a month since the funeral. Spending the past month in the dark of my room; I've barely ate, slept, showered, done anything that's needed in everyday life. I've done nothing but cry and inflict harm on myself.

I never thought that I would resort to self harm, or should I say resort back to it in a way.

It started about two weeks ago.

•Flashback•

I was sitting on my bed, staring at a picture of my parents and I from across the room on the shelf. It's all I seem to do now, sit and stare at pictures of them. They looked so happy and full of life in this photo. They should still be happy and full of life.

"Why did you guys have to go? I can't take it anymore. I can't accept the fact that you guys are gone!" I yell, beginning to cry.

My chest began to feel tight, meaning another panic attack was coming. They were becoming too frequent, too frequent that I couldn't prevent or stop them anymore. But I still tried.

"No, no, no.." I mumbled, putting my hand to my chest.

I tried to take a few deep breathes to regulate my breathing but it was no use. My hand began to shake and I started to hyperventilate. Beginning to sob uncontrollably, I look over at the picture. Like a wave, thoughts of  my parents and how I wish they weren't dead comes flooding in. Shaking my head and putting my hands up to my head, trying to shake the thoughts off and replacing them with another thought. But like always, my mind wins the battle and the thoughts get worse.

"I just want you guys back!"

I grab the pillow laying next to me and chuck it at the picture of my parents. The pillow hits it causing it to fall to the ground, the sound of glass echoing through my room. Immediately regretting what I did, I quickly get off my bed and rush over to the mess.

Like always, here you are ruining things.

I shake my head to ignore the thought and pick up the now broken picture frame, then the glass. Not knowing, I pick up a piece of glass with a very sharp edge, cutting my thumb and I quickly drop the glass.

"Fuck!" I hiss and look at my thumb.

Some blood starts to ooze out of the cut, meaning it had cut a little too deep. For some reason, while starring at the cut, I notice the thoughts beginning to stop. In a way it felt as if cutting my thumb, was causing them to stop. I pick up the piece of glass and put it against my arm. I slowly pull the glass against my arm, hissing along with the pain. I quickly stop, realizing what I was doing; but once again noticing that it stopped the thoughts.

Finally after what felt like forever, my mind stopped overflowing with all these negative thoughts and everything was quiet.

Maybe this is how I get them to stop..

•Flashback Over•

I look at my arms and legs, along with the mess of bandages and glass next to me. Seeing that I was almost out of bandages, I got up and walked into the bathroom. I opened the cabinet to see if I had any more, but just to my luck I was completely out. Standing up and turning the light on, quickly shutting my eyes from the light, then slowly opened them and saw myself for the first time in a month.