This World is not my Home *Austin Carlile adoption*

Chapter 9

Spencer's POV- 

I headed out of the venue, my feet paced across the dark pavement as five sweaty men trailed behind me. It sounds wrong but you know what I actually mean. 

I glanced back, Austin what such a talker, he could talk your ear off. He was constantly in an upbeat attitude and was the sweetest man alive, throwing smiles left and right at people even though some people were sour, judging him based on tattoos and looks. 

I was the first at the bus, pulling the door open and trailing inside what was now know as home. I honestly thought about my old home a lot, what my dad is doing, what people at school think when they finally notice I'm not there anymore. I mind tended to wander. 

I sat on the couch in the back lounge, I sunk into the soft fabric lightly, hearing the guys muffled voices behind the door. I let myself relax, closing my eyes and resting for once. The tour was hectic, constantly moving and rushing. I liked it though because it hardly have me time to think. Not thinking was a good thing for me, most people would be going insane but I was more than grateful for the busy schedule.

Now that I was alone for once and the guys were showering I was thinking, and that was bad. Like stated before, my mind wanders. 

My dad oh my poor poor dad. All

I could see was him, his tall frame and dark as coal eyes. They stared at me intently, his voice oh my god his fucking voice though. It rang inside my head. "Worthless. Bitch. Whore. It's your fault." 

I sat up too quickly, standing, also too quickly. My vision blurred and my whole brain felt like it was floating. 

I was being pulled down again, the anger, the guilt and sadness clung to me. It gripped to the fabric of my black jacket and it weighted down my feet. My breathing was getting panicked and the walls closed in. I fell to my knees, my sides hurt. Everything hurt. 

I blinked rapidly and took deep breaths. I leaned back on the couch and looked at the ceiling, tears threatening to pour out my eyes. Even if I'm left alone for less than five minutes without a distraction I lose it. Everything always came pouring back to me. 

I wiped my eyes, determined not to cry, pulling myself to me feet. I knew better than to cry, crying shows weakness and I am no longer weak. I have to be strong, for Austin and the guys and mostly for my mother. 

I walked to the door, opening it quietly and peaked out. The guys voices echoed from the front of the bus and I crept out.  It reminded me of how I had to be stealth around my father, I didn't want to be noticed in my fragile state, I wanted to be invisible.  

(self harm trigger warning)

I slipped into the now empty bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me. I grabbed my makeup bag from cupboard and unzipped it, taking out my "eyeliner sharpener." Unscrewing the blade from it. I twirled it in my hands. 

I hadn't cut since Austin had found me on the bridge and now it was eating away at me. There was really no reason, although the thought of my father made me sick that wasn't the actual reason. I was purely and helplessly addicted. It had started so long ago and now I just couldn't stop. I had tried before and failed miserably. I was stuck in an endless cycle. 

I twirled the small item in between my fingers. I finally gave in to the urge. I rolled back my sleeve, revealing hundreds of scars. Some were jagger and desperate, snaking shakily across my skin like a river. Others were clean and precise, in perfect lines. 

I set the blade on my skin and pulled it across sharply. Once. Twice. Three times. Ten times. I lost count. I stopped when a knock at the door ripped me away from my thoughts.

"Hey Spence, were planning on watching a movie, do you wanna join us?" Austin's voice penetrated my thoughts. 

"Yeah I'll be out in a sec." I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. He responded with a hmm and I heard his footsteps leave the doorway.

I quickly grabbed toilet paper and cleaned my bloody arm and wiped the floor. I flushed the paper and grabbed the first aid kit from the cupboard. I wrapped my arm in gauze and taped it up, throwing my blade into my makeup bag and putting that and the kit back. 

Pulling my sleeve down I made my way to the front lounge and sat in between Alan and Austin. Alan grabbed my arm and pulled me closer to him. I winced noticeably and made a squeak of protest, pulling my arm back. 

The whole room seemed to stop as everyone's eyes turned to me. I could see Alan's face, it was clear he knew exactly what I had just done. My mind raced and before anyone could speak I jumped up and ran to the back lounge, locking the door behind me. I sat against it thinking, what the hell am I going to do?