The life and talk and depressing shit will come later. This is like what he feels. This is like the only chapter that has cutting or where he acts like a sterotypical depress/suicidal human being.
.............
You can skip it if you want.
The only reason Niall sleeps is because he prays that one night he might not wake up.
Everyday he is brought back from his rest that he was washed away from, his dreams and happiness being ripped to shreds before being thrown into a dark pit where the rest of his insanity had went.
He was weak and shaky.
The heavy feeling in his chest gives him to have no desire to speak or move. He has barely woken up, yet he still craves to continue to close his eyes and vanish into another world that is not here; the process of being broken is incredibly exhausting.
But he prefers to be broken than being lonely, yet he has been lonely for so long. He just lies to himself that he is not, but only torn inside.
The empty-chested blonde carefully got out of his bed that cuddles him with warmth at night as he gets ready for whatever the day had chosen him to do. His bare feet hit the dark shivering-cold floor that makes his skin bring goosebumps. He wraps his arms around himself
His reality attacked him in haunting clouds that is blurred by his fady mind. His mind too drained from the fight that he already lost.
He paced over to his bathroom only to be rudely welcomed with light that came from the window. White spots flooded the boy's eyes before he clenched them close. His thoughts were blinded for a few seconds as his mind cheers from the delicious pain that had caused his knees to wobble with weakness.
He forced his colorless eyes open they landed on the mirror; the relfecting glass gave the view of something broken. It was so unreal, it could have been a picture: A boy with eyes that are dull as nothing more than a crumbled photo that no one sees to want. His pale skin almost making him seem bloodless, while they outlined the boy's slightly blue frowny lips from lack of eating. His blonde hair was greasy, disgusting. His knees were locking together, trying to hold him up. Than there were just a few hidden scars on the top of his thighs.
He has been turning bad again. Its been awhile-weeks! or months! since it last happen. It was now coated with a rusty brown-red color..
Ignoring the opposing point of what was right and what he should NOT do, he picked up the blade as he examined the dry coat on it. He could not help but trace the edges with his fingers.
At the darkest times, It was a cold, sharp, security blanket to the lost lad. (A/N: As I said the first few chapters will be very sterotypical)
He just did one thin one on the top of thighs.
but...... it wasn't enough. Just one more
He looked at his legs sadly wondering how many scars he will get when he goes to hell one day.
The weapon of choice was raisen, but quickly flooded back down to slice his skin open. The skin around it began to puff, red like wine. The blood began to bead up, creating a perfect crimson dotted line. it started to tingle and burn, but moments later it begin to feel so good with the sting.
His body was at pain, but his mind is now at ease. It felt so good to him that his mind begged for one more time.
One turns to two and two turns to four. At this point he just keeps creating small cuts because there is no reason to stop the warmness flowing through. Everyone is happy, so why can't he be also? The blood begins to drip and roll down his skin just to travel onto the cold wooden floor. It creates a pool of the dark color liquid. The blonde did not know whether to deepen his frown or blossom a smile. .
His legs turn weaker as he skims over at the boy in the mirror again. His thighs are swollen with a few thin fresh cuts and the back of his eyes burn. The boy's lips trembles and he drops himself on his knees, since his legs turned weak. Tears roll down his cheeks and down his chin.
He knows this is not happiness, but he is not ready to accept it. He throws the blade across the room as he hugs himself to hold back burning tears. His throat tightens as he attempts to hold a sob after glancing at the mirror again. Just a few more days, His broken mind told himself
One day he will die and he won't have to be here anymore. That brings a smile to his lips.
He stops the cryings with a couple strong sniffs after crawl over to his drawer and pulling it open. He digs through his supplies and pulls out the small calender that is the symbol for his death. He looked at it for a second, "16 weeks." He told himself. "16 week." until he plans sucide.
He clenched the object in his shaky hands and swallow the lump in his throat. "16 weeks until the pain ends." He only have 16 weeks to stay strong. 16 weeks just for someone to help and make the pain go away like magic.
"god, let someone help me." He prayed, hopping the angels above will look down with pity,
but he was not a religious man, so why bother?
_________________________
A/N this was only a into.
I hate this, this does not represent my writing.
Also you can suggest spanking and this was not edited.
7+ votes for next chapter
YOU ARE READING
the boy i am........isn't me (spanking)
Fanfictiontalks about life and death in a few chapters. Just basically a lonely person who wants to die, and makes a day when he plans to do suicide. He tries to understand why people enjoy being alive. (shitty description)
