( Author's note: I will advise that this chapter may be triggering to most. If you are offended by this content, I strongly suggest skipping this chapter, please. )
I grab ahold of my backpack, listening to some My Chemical Romance.
The streets were empty and damp. The cold air hitting my skin like knives. The scent of gas and the musty air filled my nostrils.
It almost feels like everything in the world just pauses, and I am the only one moving. The vision of reality slowly skipped like a record player.
I walk up to my front door, walking in the empty house.
I could tell that I will be the only one home for a while.
Sighing, I walk up to my room, locking the door behind me.
The dull light shined through the closed curtains. I place my backpack on the floor, sitting on my bed. Removing my school shirt, I look down my exposed arms. Scattered little scars on the pale skin. Each of them representing the tiring days of the week.
Without a hesitated thought, I reach for the small, dull bade under my pillow. Exhaling another exhausted breath, the blade pressed against the wounded flesh.
The familiar feeling of liquid dripping down my arm, the weight on my shoulders getting heavier.
I put the blade back under my pillow, grabbing a black, long sleeved shirt, pulling it over my head.
I curled up in my bed, the burning sensation covered by my sleeves. I couldn't hold it back, hot tears streamed down my cheeks. My breath became uneven, and fast as I was drifting away into the dark.
