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if any sane person were to look e'dawn in the eyes, they would be able to tell something was wrong. they would be able to tell he wasn't okay.
but the people at work weren't about that. they didn't care for their coworkers, just themselves-and e'dawn respected that. he worked at a very small coffee shop at the edge of town as a barista. the pay was scarce, and most literally all of his work companions focused only on their job and their pay, not the well-being of their strange coworker.
when he arrived home that day, wearing his usual work outfit, which consisted of a floral collared shirt and white pants, he tossed his shoes off by the door. e'dawn continued to his couch, plopping himself on the not-so-comfortable cushions and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. it was blue, with a white label, and had only three left.
he pulls out one and lights it, letting the comforting smell of smoke fill his nostrils as he leans back and sighs. the birds quietly chirped and the trees swayed. the noises of the afternoon were being pulled into his house by the partially opened window. he gazes outside of his small town house and stands up, making his way towards the window to shut it.
he slides the lock to the left and the window slams down, lurching itself shut. e'dawn walks back to the couch from across the room, and the vanity mirror at the edge of the room catches his eye. he hesitantly strolls toward it, studying his every feature in the clear glass.
his bleach blonde hair is straight and much too long for an average boy of his age, his mocha brown eyes are lined with dark circles and bloodshot and he has a piggy nose. his lips are the worst of them all, though. they are chapped and cracked, dried blood lining the edges. he glances down, his eyes looking at anything to avoid his own reflection.
they eventually land on the tube of lipstick he assumed belonged to a girl that had come over a few days before. a prostitute, to be exact. the night quickly faded from his mind as he picked up the untouched tube. he draws two large red xs over his eyes, and scribbles several diagonal lines over his mouth.
he leans his head to the side and sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth. he looks dead, and that's exactly what he wanted. not only to look dead, but to be dead. after all, everyone's a little dead sometimes, right? he reassured himself this by repeating that simple phrase in his mind several times.
and that's when the voices came back.
i'm crazy, he thought to himself. i'm actually fucking crazy.
he needed to stop. he needed to stop the voices, stop the uncontrollable tears, and most of all, e'dawn needed to stop living. he makes his way up the stairs and takes a quick shower, letting the steaming hot water run over his fragile skin. he winces at the pain, but it still feels numb. he knows there's pain, but he can't feel it. he feels nothing anymore.
he steps out and wraps himself in a soft blue towel, ruffling his hair until it was mostly dry, dotted with small specs of water. he combs it with his hand until it is parted in the middle and then changes into a white t-shirt and blue jeans.
he jogs down the stairs and goes to the kitchen, reviewing his next method of escape. his eyes land on the knife, but he doesn't want to bleed. next, the bottle of pills, orange with a white cap, but he doesn't want to vomit. the neighborhood pool, but he doesn't want to drown.
after a few minutes of searching, his eyes land on the perfect escape. he dumps out the contents and then picks up the old plastic bag, his fingers outstretching and making their way towards the drawer next to him.
he pulls it open and fishes around with its contents, which were mostly junk and old receipts. he smiled to himself as his fingers met the roll of tape. he slides the bag over his head and wraps the sticky tape around his neck.
he sighs and his breath fogs up the bag, now fully attached to his slim face. a few seconds pass and he can feel his face go hot, his cheeks turning a dark tint of pink.
he couldn't do it. his body couldn't, at least. his mind was ready for relief, escape, to put it simply-death. yes, e'dawn wanted to die. but at that moment, he needed air. he needed closure. he needed just one more day.
and most of all, he needed to breathe.
his unkept fingernails pricked the surface of the bag and he rips it open, his chest rapidly rising up and down from the pressure of his unsteady breathing. he coughs and air finally finds its way into his lungs, allowing for a normal heartbeat.
he sighs, soft sobs beginning to escape his mouth uncontrollably. hot tears roll down his cheeks and he cries out, covering his face with his hands so none of his neighbors would hear.
he was so close that time. and he had gone and screwed it up too soon. he wanted to die, but he wouldn't allow himself to escape from the horrid reality he had to call his own.
he looks once more at his own reflection in the mirror, un-satisfied with the freak staring back at him.
this chapter was kinda trash but can we talk about how hot e'dawn is?
