Doom

Chapter 2

Even though school was horrible for Me, it usually helped me stay stronger for longer. Sometimes however, that wasn’t the case. School was about receiving homework that obviously no one was going to do (including me), avoiding the people that would torment me and being by myself. I guess it isn't fair to act like I haven't ever had a friend, when I have. In my first year of middle school I made a friend, His name was Heath and we become best friends. I could share anything and everything with him. We were best friends for over a year, then he moved to live with his Mum which with my luck, was a 3 hour drive. l then went back to having a total of zero friends, again.

When school was out I would always go home and that for me was the worst part. This was always the part where I couldn’t control my thoughts or actions. Sometimes it was hard to be alone, you know? After a while it really gets to you. The worst part is that even when I was at home with my family I still felt alone, like there was this black hole that doesn't seem to close, yet I so desperately wanted it to.

I would always arrive home and both my parents wouldn’t be there until later. It made it easier for me to let go of the things I had stored in my head the whole day. When I get home I would get a snack from the kitchen and take a knife with me to my bedroom. When I got to my bedroom I would close the door and take my shirt off. This was always the time that I looked at the previous days work and also the time I began to cry. The voices in my head would be telling me that I'm useless, I should die, my parents hate me, no one in the world could ever love me and worst of all, that I couldn’t ever love myself. I wanted to destroy the thoughts I would be having. The only way I saw to do this was to physically remove them. This is what I did everyday. I picked up the knife and created a new mark, a new story, a new mistake. Several more would follow until there was too much blood. I'd then take a break and wait for the blood to dry. Most of the time this took about five minutes because I usually wiped it off. I then repeated what I'd previously done again and again. Until I could physically not take it anymore. My body would be in so much pain by then that I would almost not be able to move. I'd then be forced to lie down on the floor until I was able to stand up properly.

It would then be two hours later and my Mum would almost be home. I would still be in pain but I knew I had to get up. This particular time I was a little worried because it was one of those days that I over-did it and the blood was still faintly coming out. I’d wash my stomach and put bandages over my scars. Then I would follow my daily procedure of putting on a clean shirt, cleaning the knife and returning it to the kitchen.

I could hear the garage open and this was usually the time I run to my room to make it seem like I was hard at work since I got home. My door would open.

"Hi Logan, how was school?" said Mum "It was fine, just doing home work" I’d say "Okay sweetheart, I'll call you when dinner is ready" Mum would say cheerfully

That would be the daily conversation I would have with my Mum. Actually it was the longest conversation I would have with anyone at all. At school I would have my longest conversations with the teachers, they would always come up to me and ask me if I needed help with my work. I find it funny how the kids with no friends are made to feel sorry for. I don't want anyone's pity, not even a teachers.