Inner Thoughts

Description

If a room could tell stories, there would be fewer secrets in the world. Same for Tristan's room. It could tell the story of a kid who wanted to be loved. The story of a kid who doesn't think he is good enough for anyone. The kid who harms himself. The kid who yelled at himself. The kid who just walked into the room.

Tristan day down in his bed, just staring off into space. Today has been a very bad day. Since his room was right above the living\dining room area, he could hear everything that was upon on downstairs. He could hear how his dad and his girlfriend were at it again with the fighting. He could hear every word.

Tristan closed his eyes, trying to block out the sounds he was hearing. His brother was staying at his friend and couldn't hear what was going on. He took a deep breath, opening his eyes to taking a look around the room.

The room had two was being red and the other walls being silver. His bed rested in the wall right of the door, having black and gold covers and pillow cases, a single window was to the left it the bed, it having black trim, a black dresser to the right of the bed. There was a set of blades under the mattress, two used the others still waiting, there was a bottle of pain pills under a pile of clothes for when he was in much pain to move, and a first aid kit in the dresser. Not that it made a difference, there was a small Bluetooth speaker sitting on the window seal, the only use for when he was crying too loud or his dad was fighting. Everything had a place so it would look like a normal teen room.

If you looked at Tristan right now, you would think he was a little kid. He looked vulnerable to the world, his hair a messed, going every direction, his eyes wide, tears with filling, and the way he curled into himself. Everything point to a sad kid, not some obnoxious teenager.

As the fighting continued, Tristan let the tears fall from his eyes. There was nothing left for him, or at least that is what he thought. After a few seconds, he got up and got out a new blade. He was about to make a cut when he suddenly stopped. He placed the blade on the bed and walked over to his backpack where he got out so a piece of paper and a pen. He quickly wrote down his thoughts. He signed his name and folded the paper, placing it on the dresser.

He walked back over to the bed, taking a seat. He looked around his room for one more time. He thought it would be the last time he saw any of it.

Taking a deep breath, Tristan took the blade and gashed his wrists, cutting twice before he moved on to the other arm. The blood quickly flowed from his arms, making him lightheaded. Tristan laid back on the bed, closing his eyes. There was nothing more he wanted to do than fall asleep and never wake up, for the moment it was happening. He was slipping from reality, everything was in place, this is where and how a Tristan would die.

The floor was turning red, the bedding becoming bloody from the blood, the sun seems to start shining on him from the window. It was like everything had fallen into place. The boy who just wanted to be loved, happy and a caring family was now pale and broken. He had made the decision that changed everyone else's lives. He felt so done that he had taken his own life or at least that was the plan.  

I hope this was good. I tried to make it sound real. Anyway, suicide is not the answer. Please call someone if you feel like you might do something like that. Comment, vote, share.