Trigger Warning! if you are triggered by blood, self inflicted harm, self cause of death, please please please dont read this chapter! i want you all safe! i'll post what happens for those that are triggered after the authors note next update. <3
edit: the summary of the end is up now my bbs
June 23, 2015
02:49
im so sorry james.
02:53
i didnt even know what happened.
02:54
maybe we can be together.
02:59
i think i should tell you what happened first though, huh?
04:13
he raped me.
04:15
he drugged my drink and raped me.
04:17
i didnt want to tell you because you would get mad at him.
04:20
i didnt want to ruin your friendship with him.
04:23
but i guess i have to go.
04:24
ill see you in a bit i guess.
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He took a few steps from his bed and wandered around his dark room. Stumbling over to his full size mirror, he looks in it. With sunken eyes and pasty skin, a now defined bone-structure, he looked like nothing more than a skeleton: but that's what he felt like. He felt heartless, no hunger of any kind. He couldn't even feel himself take steps, his breathing was labored and his mind was blank. He was completely hypnotized. Steps so light they were barely audible under the creaky floor of his dirty apartment. The door swung open and feet dragged out of the room, onto tiles of white. Seconds later, a creak echoed throughout the apartment, soon followed by a loud shatter. He sat on the floor, a broken plate in front of him, and a shaky hand reached out for the biggest shard. He grasped it and felt it cut into his hand slightly: the first thing he had felt in months. He got up, swaying from side to side as his vision blurred and started to narrow. He wandered to the bathroom, looking dead into the mirror and seeing his brown eyes, that were once full of life, empty, barren, glazed over from the sadness that ate him from the inside out. He was all gone; everything was gone except his desire to be with James and be dead. He opened the mirror cabinet and pulled a full bottle of pills out. Paroxetine. He broke it open and took a handful of pills and downed it with the rushing water from the sink in front of him. He took another and downed those as well. He made his way to the kitchen and wrote with a dying pen on a random piece of paper. He took the shard of turquoise from the plate and dragged it roughly across his arm. Again, and again, and again. Eventually, he dropped the pointed glass and collapsed: in a pile of his own blood and tears that he didn't know he could muster up. He was pale and unresponsive. He was finally gone. He was finally with James again.
The note on the counter had a mixture of tears and blood on it, but it was still legible.
To anyone who finds this,
Im sorry but Im finally happy. Im with James again. sorry.
Aleksandr Marchant
