Another Demon

Die A Hero

The house, or rather the mansion was huge. Marble walls that were covered with expensive paintings. There was a huge staircase that broke into two different directions to the second floor with red leather on the railing and carpet on the stairs lined with golden silk. The kind of house you'd see in an anime. A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling high above the ground, reflecting the lights coming in from the enormous windows. At least thirty chairs sat in front of a podium at the bottom of the stairs, cased flowers lined the white walkway in between the chairs, with a bunch of people in suits and dresses sitting in them. Based on the entry-room itself I could imagine what the other rooms look like. Even though imagining them was all I was able to do. Since I wasn't aloud to go in the other rooms. Truly a miraculous home, with spectacular details. If only the owner wasn't such a monumental douchebag.

It's my sister's wedding and she's marrying some rich, snobby frat-boy named Jacob she met from college. Well, of course he prefers to be called J. He's the type of rich asshole that if he'd crash his car in a poor family's car, he'd sue them for every penny, and get it too. I will give him some credit though, in the sense of he's either really in love with my sister, or a great actor. I can't see the reason she's marrying him though, it can't be for the money, our family makes decent money. Our dad is high ranked in the military and the money they send to us proves it. Then, add my sisters doctoral degree in physical therapy. It equals to pretty good money.

"Brendan? Brendan Truss?" Shocked out of my dreamy state I looked up to see who said my name. It was a nice looking elderly lady, but I don't recall writing 'talk to me' on my forehead.

"Yeaaah?" I managed to squeeze out, confused as to who this lady is, and why she knows my name. Also, why she's the first one to talk to me all day. 

"I'm Marissa, I was a friend of your mothers, i'm so sorry for your loss." She said as she reached her hand out to me.

"Well, in that case, we both lost her. Thank you for your concern." I said as I shook her hand and held back a sigh. "Now, if you'd excuse me." I walked off, not wanting to talk anymore, but of course J had other plans for me.

"Wassup little bitch boy?" He said as put me in a headlock.

"Piss off J, I hate the sound of your voice." I said as I escaped the lock.

"Yea but your sister loves my dick."

"I bet all your fuck-boy friends love your asshole too, huh?" I said as I got in his face. Flustered with no comeback he walked away angrily. Mumbling and grunting under his breath.

I continued on to the bathroom, I found out that bathrooms are the only place where you can be truly alone. Right now, I need to be alone. Walking into the big, white bathroom I closed and locked the door. Walking to the mirror I began to sweat, looking at my reflection I felt it coming, the attack. It was going to be a hard one too. Slowly, I began to lose control of my head, as a war began to wage inside my skull. My brain was fighting with itself and my emotions. Shaking my skull as the brawl continued on relentlessly. It should've been me kept playing over and over in my head. Pounding the words against my brain as I started forming out the memory, I could smell the smoke of the fire and remembered every detail of the flipped car. I wanted to scream, to run away. Although, what i've been feeling lately far surpassed those thoughts. I want to bleed, a feeling brand new to me that showed up about a month ago. I opened the mirror and saw a razor blade placed on the shelf. I started running the sink and took the blade to my palm, much easier to hide that way. "I'm sorry mom," I whispered under my breath as I put my bleeding hand in the sink. I screamed through my teeth, trying to hold back as much sound as possible. The blood kept running and running, dripping off my fingertips, making the water turn red as it went down the drain. So I placed a paper towel against the cut, applying pressure. The voices still attacked me ruthlessly, screaming at me to die. To put myself out of misery like a sick dog without a cure. What's wrong with me I think to myself, in fact it seems like I can't go a hour without finding out someway to hate myself. It's almost impossible to go a day without touching a blade to my skin, to feel sharp steel slide through my skin, slicing veins that causes blood to come oozing out my body.

Although the blood is messy and the blades are a bit painful, it takes me away for a brief moment. It takes me to a place where pain and insanity is okay, where there's no judgement and watchful eyes. A blade doesn't tell me that I need pills, it tells me i'm human. That I can't escape certain pains and it's okay to feel them, to let them in. A blade won't shoo you away, or pretend like you don't exist. No, instead it'll give you the harsh truth that no matter what happens, you're a human, you bleed and you feel pain. The only way a blade will stab you in the back, is if you let it. So, I let myself bleed because blood is heavier than water and it can push away tears when no one else will.

Maybe, i'm special and need help or I do need medication. Maybe i'm just sick and hurt from the trauma I endured early in my life. Sometimes, I admit, I think about unleashing my pain on other people, but I could just be sick. Or I'm evil and to scared to admit it, I don't know which anymore. I stared at my pathetic reflection when a sudden but important realization washed over me. I could kill myself, put an end to the misery. If just a little drip of blood can drown my pain then imagine what a waterfall of blood coming out of my neck could do. I grabbed the blade again, bringing the sharp edge to my throat. I was just about to slice it through my neck when a bullet shot shook me out of my suicidal state.