Scaring The Thought of Kissing Razors (Pierce the Veil fanfic)

Chapter 4

Here, let's just get right to the story.

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«ZPOV»

I ran and ran and ran and ran. I could hear that sweet, angelic voice calling my name every couple of minutes. Finally, I saw a fork in the road. I rounded the corner and saw a park, with a shelter somewhere in the middle of a grassy field. I ran straight to the playground, scaling it and collapsing on the surface.

I peered in between the bars and saw who was chasing me at the top of the hill, whipping his head around frantically.

Looking for me.

I couldn't make out his appearance because of the never ending tears blurring my vision. So I didn't try to, I just quieted my sobs. I sat up, and looked around. I was at the top of the playground, that spot by the biggest slide that was usually hidden from sight. I sighed, hopefully nobody would find me.

Soon, I stopped sobbing. I was still crying, but silently. But as it got quieter, I couldn't stop the thoughts going around my head.

"WHY don't you just end it?"

"Why don't you go kill yourself already?"

"The world would be a better place without a freak like YOU in it,"

"just go slit your wrists and leave."

"NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOU. DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?"

"You're such a fucking freak"

"WHY don't you go cut yourself"

"hit a vein."

"We'd all be glad if you weren't here."

"Go kill yourself, you fucking freaky faggot."

Wow, they sure knew how to make me feel like shit. Worthless, even. I unlocked my phone.

7:15. The concert starts in 15 minutes.

And I'm gonna miss it.

And I'm gonna be dead.

Hands shaking, I wrote something. I set the phone down, face up. I sat, holding my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth for a couple minutes. Would anyone come to my funeral? Would anyone miss me? Would they care? Would I have left a mark, would people remember me? Or would they all forget about me, the girl who was bullied to death. Yeah, probably.

My mind is set. Thank God I put it in my back pocket before I left; I can't see anything sharp around me. I pull my razor out of my pocket, looking at my reflection in it. Black tears streamed down my face, my eyeliner going everywhere. Ew, even in the end I'm still ugly. Fat. Useless. Worthless. Pathetic. Freak.

I bring the blade to my skin, pulling it across. I love this feeling. Everything I'm feeling is replaced with a slight pain. I sit and watch the blood flow for a minute, before doing it again.

This cycle repeated for a bit, until there were more than 20 cuts on my forearms, blood everywhere. I let out a shaky sob, wanting to be dead already.

I closed my eyes, tired. I curled up into a ball, laying on the uneven surface of the jungle gym. I kept crying.

"Zoe?" It was that voice again, this time closer. That sweet angelic voice. I tried to quiet my sniffles, but of course, my body never cooperates.

"Zoe, where are you?" I hear him again. He sounded worried, scared even.

"Leave me alone," I mumbled, quite tired.

I hear him stop moving and sigh.

"Well, you're coming with me, like it or not."