west coast ☆ joji miller

18 ; criminal

"it's cold." i whispered to joji, who laid in the bed with me. it was his bed of course, but i got comfortable quickly.

"come here," he spoke back, his voice as raspy as the day we unfortunately met. i rolled over to him, and sighed in relief when he snuggled up
against me. my eyes closed, and it was like i fell into sleep instantly.

-

blood. the blood. the fucking blood.

i stood in the shower scrubbing it, but it wouldn't leave my body. there was so much, causing me to wonder if it was all from ian. perhaps i had gotten cut several times without knowing, or something. my once greasy hair felt so clean, yet i began to feel like some of the blood was tattooed to my body.

after fifteen painful minutes of scrubbing until my hands had gotten tired, i stepped out from the shower and stood in front of the mirror. the rug beneath me was soft; the fabric poking through the in betweens of my toes.

my body was extremely skinny, which came as a shock to me since i was known as "chubby" coming into this house. but now, i looked like a victoria secret model, and i noted a big, purple bruise that circled on my stomach from ian socking me. i almost forgot about that since my mind has been plagued by the constant memory of me pulling the trigger on him, his body going limp as if he fell into an everlasting sleep.

before i knew it, i fell to the floor in a crying fit.

i was a criminal, a fucking killer.