Damn it. Now I'm in looking into the eyes if another person trying to help me. He's wearing glasses and just looking at him pisses me off.
"Fuck off. I don't need your help you—"
"Ah ah ah no use of such vile language in this room." The idiot physiologist or whatever he is says."We're only here to help. You ditched class and we've gotten reports of rude behavior towards classmates and teachers. Could this be because of your boy friends death?
I stare at the bastard. Then I give him the finger.
"Your father was very worried about you. He said you come home with bruises at night and he obviously wants to help you." I almost laugh. My father is a sick bastard.
"Jośe was it?"The doctor says taunting me.
"Screw you. Those words aren't worthy enough for your mouth so don't ever say them again." I say calmly as I could ever be.
"Listen Lizzy we want to help. Let us help."He says pleading me."We want to turn your life around before it's to late."
"GO AWAY! You want to help, let me go! I wouldn't give a damn about you crappy doctors so just let me go! I don't even remember how I got here! I'm slowly losing my freakin' mind!"
"So you don't remember things?"The doctor says.
"I don't have to talk to you asshole." I snap.
"Quite the mouth you got, huh?"He counters.
"Fuck this." I black out again.
YOU ARE READING
Demons tend to be scary
UmorismoWhat do you do when you lose the one you loved the most. Do you die? Be depressed? Act normally? I cut. I cut and I cut and I cut. I keep cutting the pain away. It feels better when I cut. Maybe one day I'll cut a vein bleed out and die. Am I crazy...
