Ethan Imagines | Crankgameplays

Not today

*WARNING: This part will include themes about self harm and suicide. Could be triggering to some readers. Please do not read if you have issues with self harm. Stay safe, lovelies.*

I sat with my back against the sink and my feet on the cold tile. An owl could be heard through the open window in my bathroom and I could see the night sky.

I had been in here for an hour. Telling myself that I needed to do it, I needed to get rid of it.

I needed to get rid of the annoying pest that took up too much space in the world. In the house. I needed to get rid of it for the sake of my parents and brother. For the sake of my best friend. For the sake of Ethan.

No one was home and no one would be home for at least another hour. It would be quick and easy. An easy way to get rid of everything. An easy way to make this house a better place and to make their lives better.

Conflicting thoughts run through my head and I soon make the decision to do it. Quick. Clean. And easy.

I push my self off of the ground and open up the cabinet above the sink. I knew my dad had to keep some in here. I look and my eyes eventually land on a pack of them.

I reach up to grab the container, hearing the slight rattle of the promise to something better. I pull back a sleeve and stare at the skin I was used to hiding.

Scars cover the area and I rub one that was right on a bone. Too much skin. Too much fat. Too much space.

Thoughts run through my head as I slip out a cool metal blade. I stare at my reflection in the mirror.

"Why... why couldn't you be better? Why couldn't you be stronger? You're weak. You're a fat, pathetic piece of shit that no one loves. No one cares." I say to myself.

"You're just a selfish little bitch. You have no reason to be this unhappy. You have good life. Your parents are together and you have roof above your ugly ass head. You have no fucking right to be this unhappy. You're just weak and want attention." Emotion begins building in my chest again as I repeat the things said by so many different people.

"You're weak and selfish. You'll never be thin enough. Smart enough. Pretty enough. You will never be good enough." Tears blur my vision as I bring the metal up to my skin.

I think my parents that would always fight but never leave. I think for the trash bin out back that was full of whiskey bottles, cigarette butts, and smoked joints. I think of the girl I called best friend but she never gave me a second thought. I thought of the boy I called a boyfriend, the way he spoke to me and how I knew he probably used the same lines on prettier girls.

I was never someone's first pick. I was never the social butterfly or the jokester. I was never the honor roll student or the best child. I was never anything. I was always the quiet girl that people walked by.

I was the girl people told to speak up but also told me to shut up when I did. I was the girl that people always told me I would be pretty, if I lost weight and got clear skin and straighten my hair and had blues eyes and...

I was never the right girl. I was never good enough. I was a waste of oxygen but I was too scared to fix anything. I was too scared to pull the trigger or down the pills. I was too scared to kick the chair or to cut deep enough. I was never strong enough to stay away from one more meal.

I didn't deserve to do it any longer. I didn't deserve anything. And I was finally brave enough to fix everything. If I pushed a little deeper... I could fix everything.

Maybe people would finally see me as a person and not a punching bag. Maybe they would see that I couldn't take everything, no matter how hard I tried. Maybe I would finally be something besides the fat friend. Besides the second choice.