Tiger Stripped Leggings {Joshler}

whatever you want_Cp 22

(Extreme usage of self harm. Warning.)

Walking my bike to a stop outside, I wipe some tears out of my eyes upon passing the cemetery earlier. The lonely forest made the sadness I harbored brink.

My eyes stung as I sauntered into the backroom, house asleep. Maria had gone home already, seeing as it was already almost midnight. The television had been previously turned on, static filling the empty room. Turning it off, I feel the heavy weight of suspicious pass over me.
'Where is he?'

Escaping the back, lonely room I lightly creep into the kitchen, looking for a note- anything on the table. Eyes scouring the polished wood, I came short of any letter. My feelings heightened with a small tingle of hope.
'Maybe he's sleeping?'

Rushing, still quietly, I run up the stairs, eyes wide in the dark, pupils dilated. Please please please.

Opening the first door to my left, the bathroom stands without anyone in it. I turn to the next room, mine, sneakily pushing it open. Dark. Empty. My breathing starts to fault, breathes turning into gasps. PLEASE please please pleas-

Ever so lightly I tiptoe to the end of the hall. The door stands behind menacing dark wood. Menacing. It taunting with the hope of a father sleeping, being here with me is too good to be true. I reach for the knob, the cold stinging my frozen hands.

Pushing it slightly open, I peek with my eyes in the room. My heart is drowning out all sound, beating  a thousand miles a second. Gasping for dear life, I take a look around the dark room of his. The cool shades of blue and black shillouettes shadow the room. My eyes land on the bed, breath stopped mid gasp-

"Idiot idiot STUPID IDIOT! WHY WOULD YOU THINK HE CARES ABOUT YOU?!'

Running down the hall to my bedroom, I slam the door behind me, the wooden door quivering. Deep sobs fill my chest, pumping out tears the size of dimes, a fluid waterfall. The light shadows of my purple lamp shine around my room, making me see blurred lines everywhere.

'HE LEFT YOU BECAUSE YOU DON'T DESERVE IT. YOU DON'T DESERVE ANYTHING.'

Crying out loud I rush to my shelf, fingers madly running over books and other trinkets. My hands stop over a piece of wood with symbols etched out on it. Flipping it over quickly, a shinning piece of metal escapes the hallowed out center and falls onto the shelf. I grab for it wildly, my heart ceasing to beat, my stomach dropping with a familiar ache.

Holding the medium sized shard of metal in my hand, I fling myself on my bed. Glancing at my phone, I reach for it thrown previously on the bed and play one of my saddest songs.  Screams of agony play through my speakers, furthering my demented vision.

Clutching the blade I look at my arm, scars scabbed over. I see a flash of white hospital lights and inwardly curl into myself. Pausing for a moment, I lift up my shirt, tears flowing.

I press my hand to my stomach, feeling afraid, but numb. The smooth tan skin, never touched with a harboring anger weapon seems good enough.

I hear the pent up anger in his voice over the speaker, about to burst. I touch the metal to my stomach, eyes sore and wet. My mouth curls into a grimace, shutting my whimpers off.

"I wish I was special.." I anticipate the next word, hand shaking with adrenaline. Guitar riffs shut out all thoughts.

"But I'm a CREEP-"
Slash. Sob.
"I'm a weirdo"
Pain. Laughter.
"What the hell am I doing here?!"
Yank. Slash-Drip.

"I don't belong here-"

Through tears and a croaky voice I yell along with him.

"She is running out the door. She running out -"

I begin to feel the sharp pain, and quickly run the blade over again and again.

"Run, run, run, RUN!"

SCREAM.

PURPLE BLACK LIGHTS.

FATHER.

Alone.

drip

"RUUUNN!"

I let out a sigh. The music calms with me, one in the same. His voice fades to a soft whisper once again.

Looking down, I open my eyes to see black pools in the crease of my stomach. The purple light reflects off the small blade balanced in my shaking palm. Dark lines litter over my abdominal muscles, stomach, chest.

"Whatever makes you happy-"

Breath slowing, I feel my eyes close.

"Whatever you want.."

My hand begins to lower to the bed, heavy.

"You're so fuckin' special
I wish I was special."

The soft guitar lulls me down farther.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo,
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here.
I don't belong here..."

A hypnosis type of fatigue rushes over me, sultry. I feel a hot tear run down my cheek down to my neck.

'I don't belong here...'