Delusional

Chapter Three

I frantically scrambled to my feet and tried to stem the blood flow with a towel. It didn't seem that bad, but I could tell by the fact that the sun was now out, I was on the floor bleeding for a while.

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After the bleeding had stopped and I finally managed to get my wrists bandaged, I sat on my bed and stared at the bandages, trying to force myself to recall what happened, but all I could remember was that shadow. He couldn't have been in my bathroom. That just sounded ridiculous. How would he even know where I live? He doesn't. Couldn't. What's wrong with me?

I finally looked at my phone to check the time. I already missed two classes, so I decided against going. Instead I crawled up into bed and tried to ignore the throbbing and burning in my arms.

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I don't know how long I slept, but when I woke up the room was filled with the orange haze of a sunset. I groaned and sat up slowly, rubbing at my eyes that wouldn't seem to open. After a few minutes of sitting there, waiting for the dizziness to subside, I got up and stumbled to the kitchen. I was in desperate need of something to drink. I downed multiple glasses of water but still felt dizzy and thirsty.

I stood there for a few more minutes before stumbling back upstairs to my bedroom. I could barely remember the past couple days and it made me feel frantic.

I looked up when I heard my mom come in. She smiled at me. A fake smile. Something I'm used to seeing, since I'm often wearing one myself. I looked down at my arms, relieved to see I was wearing long sleeves so she couldn't see the suicide attempt I couldn't even remember.

She was trying, I knew she was. I also knew she was trying to forget how fucked up I am, all the shit I've been through, all the shit I've done. Everyone gives me that same look. That fake sympathetic look. The kind you give that girl you never cared for after you dump her. I can't stand it, but I remind myself that she's trying. I keep telling myself that. Trying to convince myself that she only wants the best for me and that she doesn't know any better. She doesn't know the way I hate that look.

It fills me with an irrational anger. I don't know why it made me mad but I suddenly couldn't stand to be in the same room as her. At least not as long as she was wearing it. I slammed the cup on the counter forcefully, the ceramic shattering in my hand. I couldn't help the smirk that spread across my face as she looked at me in shock, that fake smile long ago dropped. It was satisfying. I turned on my heels and went back to my room.

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When I woke up the next morning I was actually eager to get to school. I wanted to escape, even if that meant 7 hours in a building filled with hormonally controlled teenagers. I never considered myself one of them. I was never like them. Never a slave to a sex-driven mind, okay maybe a little. But I've only ever slept with one girl and in a weird way it just felt wrong. I've never found anyone attractive...well....no. Its stupid.
I'm not gay.

Author's Note: All I ask is that you vote for each chapter and leave a comment on parts you liked. I'm very interested in what interests because I want to use it to make my writing better, but I get absolutely no feedback.