Voices in My Head

Chapter 4: Empty

I stagger to my feet and sat down on my bed, my eyes roaming around, taking note of everything that was here.

There was a bed with a nightstand beside it, a desk and chair, and a bookshelf with a few books in it. No pictures. Only the closet was filled with my stuff (mainly my clothes). Other than that, the room was bare.

It's kind of funny. I had this room for almost 7 years but it still feels new. It feels empty, no real sign of someone actually living here.

'Your own family hates you.'

But it's not surprising. It wasn't home.

I plug in my earbuds, but the music couldn't overpower the voices. Scratching metal voices. Biting, hurtful words. But I didn't block them out. I couldn't block them out. The voices were enticing, tempting.

'You were never supposed to be born.'

I laid down on the bed, not bothering to change my clothes or get under the covers. I looked sideways, out the window. At the tree branches and the slight swaying of its leaves. It was calming to watch and allowed my thoughts to wander.

'You were created out of an affair.'

School was bad with the bullies, but home was much worse. At school, I was bullied, but at least they acknowledged my existence even if it was with insults. At home, it was like I wasn't even there. It was like I didn't even exist. And that was much worse than kids picking on me.

'You are a mistake, always have been, always will.'

I brought my arms in front of my face. I pulled the sleeves of my hoodie down to reveal bright white bandages.

This is what my life has been reduced to.

A cutting, bullied freak who's too weak to defend himself. A pathetic coward who can't fight back. A broken shell of a boy who at one point in his life been happy and cheerful.

I can't remember that boy anymore because that boy is dead. That boy had to watch all his happy memories burn up in front of him.

It was just a simple trip to their favorite shop run by his dad's friend. It was supposed to be a day filled with father-son bonding since his dad has been working hard lately.

When the young boy saw those men dressed in black enter the little hardware store, he should've said something.

Maybe then, his father and the person he came to look up to as an uncle would've been more prepared when those same shady men pulled out their guns, declaring a robbery.

Maybe then, they would've been more prepared when those robbers burned the place down with all three trapped inside. Maybe then, his father wouldn't have to push him out of the way of a falling beam, instantly dying.

Maybe then, he wouldn't have lost the only family who cared about him. Maybe then, he wouldn't have to be on his own.

And when that boy decided to try to move on and finally found peace, life decided to break him even more.

Her body was cold to the touch. He didn't even care about the blood getting all over him as he held her close to his chest.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." That was the only thing he could say.

His past came back to haunt him and cost him the only one who was able to get past his walls. She trusted him and that got her dead.

I force myself to relax.

Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out.

When I felt calm enough, I stare blankly at the ceiling, at the mismatch wavy lines covering the whole thing.

If there was one thing I learned while growing up, it's that there's no hope for me. And don't even try to sell me that crap that things will get better, that things will finally look up if I just keep hanging on.

Because I know that's not true.

I was in an accident when I was young. I survived but my dad (my biological one) didn't. It was hard trusting people from then on. But there was one girl who managed to do the impossible of breaking down my impenetrable walls.

And for a while, I was happy. I actually enjoyed life.

Until I lost it all due to a stupid mistake I made.

When I try to look for my happy ending, life got in the way and decided that I didn't deserve it. So I stopped trying. Stopped talking. Stopped hoping.

And I'm happy with that. Because I'm not going to get hurt again.

I turn up the volume of my phone. I let my eyes fall shut as music flooded my ears and drifted me into a restless sleep plagued with nightmares.