One-chapter stories

Guilt.

(i wrote this about two years ago. excuse my grammar.)

He looked at the reflection of
his own body in the bathroom mirror, many cuts and bruises covered his arms and neck, a busted lip and a black eye.

It wasn't a serious issue in the first sixteen years of his life, he thought that it belonged to him, as in how he was, rather than a serious problem.

It started when he was about fourteen years old. He often yelled at his mother and friends, or he got mad about stupid little things.

But it got worse after about a year.

The yelling turned into shouting.

Shouting became punching.

But it wasn't just hitting or shouting, he often broke stuff and he often hurt people, verbally.

He was now sixteen years old, and his sudden outbursts of agression were completely out of control, they came out of nowhere.

His mother never talked about it to his doctor, yet, she was worried, for the sake of her own son.

But then, one night, he came downstairs. Furious, shouting, yelling, throwing stuff and breaking things. His mother was shocked, she had never seen him like this. Her son, the one who would never hurt anyone on purpose. She tried to calm him down but that only seemed to make him even angrier. She started to yell at him, telling him to stop. And then, he slapped her, right across her face. Hitting your own mother, something he thought that he would never do, but he did. He got even more pissed and went upstairs again, leaving his now crying mother behind. He slammed his bedroom door shut and looked at himself in the mirror. He was a horrible person for hurting people, especially his own mother. And all of a sudden, his fists hit the glass mirror, sending tiny pieces of glass through the air. His knuckles started to bleed and another wave of rage hit him. He started to punch the wall and himself, he banged his head against the wall, over and over, harder and harder, hoping that his skull would break into a million pieces. But that didn't work, it made him feel numb, mentally and physically. He started to panic. He picked up a shard of glass and thought. Would he..? He pulled off his shirt and held the piece of glass to his arm, applying some pressure. He dragged it across his skin. He felt pain, but it was a good pain, something he needed. He did it again, but a bit faster, and that led to him making several, deep cuts, all along both of his arms, shoulders and neck.