An Imperfect Beauty and Her Beast

Old Habits Die Hard

A/N Hi everyone, this chapter is an idea that's been forming in my head for months. I didn't know it would come out like this, but I am pleased with the way it did. I have put a trigger warning where I think there should be. Feedback is appreciated. And as always, please vote/comment/share 

David’s POV

Month. After month. After month. The days stretched just as they did before. Only with more blood. More scars. More pain.

Going back to the moment I fell to my knees, there was searing fire-like pain dancing in my chest. I struggled to breath as I attempted to grasp the door. I couldn’t even reach the hinges of the door without enhancing the pain. Linda was the one that found me and got help to get me to my room. She had stayed behind to check my temperature, but she couldn’t figure out what was happening to me. When Melinda finally showed up, she heard an earful from her. After Linda was done with her outburst, she sat in a chair still looking far from content.

“What’s...happening...to me?” I heavily breathed out.

Melinda looked at me painfully and replied, “Heartbreak.”

The question must’ve been clear on my face because she elaborated without me having to say a word. “It’s part of your curse. One part I was hoping you would not have to go through. To sum it up, if you were to ever go through heartbreak during your curse, it would pretty be much ten times worse than the normal heartbreak.”

“What?!” I choke out.

“The pain will go down in time, but there’s no telling when it will stop. I’m sorry I can’t do anything to help. I never expected it to come to this.”

“You can’t do anything?” Linda pleaded.

“I can put you to sleep, if you want?”

“Do. It.”     

And those were the two words that started the next six months of hell.

***

It took a while for me to get out of bed. It was not only the physical pain, but the mental kind as well. Heartbreak consists of all kinds of crazy thoughts to go though your head. Try making it ten times worse.

*TRIGGER WARNING FROM THIS POINT ON-DO NOT READ IF YOU CAN BE TRIGGERED BY SUICIDAL ACTIONS*

The moment I was able to walk, I got my old blade that I had buried under piles of clothes in my closet. I hid in rooms that hadn’t been used in years and I cut. I thought that I would need time to sink into the old habit again, but the actions were quick, painful, and familiar. When my arms were too bloody, I went for my thighs. I forgot about her and the past. I forgot how to live. The old rooms became my escape. Along with the blade, blood, and tears. That’s how I lived for the next two and a half months.

I didn’t talk much. Even when Josh called. I didn’t tell him what had happened. Nobody knew of my time in the rooms, and I liked it that way.

Most of the time I couldn’t get her words or expression out of my head. And other times, my own words haunted me.

She trusted me. She trusted me. She trusted me. You monster.

And then came the original reasons of why I wanted to die. I was to be a beast forever. I would never have love, or deserve it. Maybe I could’ve saved my parents. Maybe I should’ve died with them. I should have, shouldn’t have I?

On more than one occasion, I woke up in blood and a tear-stained pillow. In those late nights, I went searching for something that could carry my weight for hanging myself. And then one night, I found something perfect.