A/N: well, as if you probably noticed the story is made out of all little chapters and I haven´t upload anything in about 4 weeks since my laptop was taken away by my parents... so yeah, sorry about that and I hope you enjoy chapter 3 ^^
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“I don’t know”, he mumbles. He stands up, gives me a little faked smile and then leaves my room. Well there I was then, my whole plan failed, I got hospitalized and my boyfriend just told me he was doubting about our relationship. I look around again, but then suddenly my eyes focus on a little box next to my bed, on my nightstand. I know that box. I know how dangerous it is, because when you have it in your hands it seriously feels like you can’t go back, then you just need to cut. What is it doing in here? It normally lays under my bed between some old book I used to read when I was a little girl. Only me and Lynn know where it used to be laying down.
I carefully grab the box, which is decorated with little purple rhinestones. The box its self is a deep dark blue color and it’s made out of wood. After I inspected it, like it was a 500 years old bone I just found, I slowly open it… empty. Where are my blades and lighter? I want to cut so badly.
I hear footsteps in the hallway. Some are light and are fast after each other and the other ones sound heavy but there’s some kind of doubt in the pattern of walking. The footsteps are getting closer and I hear a familiar voice. “Is she going to be okay sir? Are you sure?” says a high worried voice, which was clearly my mom. “Relax April, she’s fine.” says another familiar voice, but this one was a really low one, which was recognizable as my dad’s voice. “I’m not even stressing Mark, I’m just worried about our daughter which is totally going mad in her…” all of a sudden she stops screaming. Then there walks a doctor in my room, followed by my parents.
My dad immediately sits down in a chair, takes his phone and starts playing a stupid game (probably something like angry birds or something). My mom just stands at the end of my bed, staring at me, with tears in her eyes. I’ve never seen my mom crying before. The doctor checks all the little tubes that are connected to my body, writes something down and then walks out of the room. My parents still haven’t say a thing. My mom sits down next to my bed, while my dad becomes really mad for not being able to shoot all the green pigs. I don’t like silences and after an awkward silence that took way too long I ask: “Is there something wrong?”
