7 days
Sam voice had been relentless. Greasy brunette hair hung in Colby's face as his body erupted with a smell that made your gut twist. The boy lay in his bed, blankets thrown around the small room as he covered his ears, his blue eyes shut tightly. He wanted it to stop. The demands, the self loathing, the red decorated lines on his wrist, breathing, he wanted it all to stop. Sam's voice was sweet, enticing, and powerful. The voice had a plan and Colby wanted to go along with it, he did, but a small part of him that hadn't completely vanished urged him to hold on. He was at war with himself and the larger part of him was winning. Each day, each jagged cut, each time Sam's voice sounds a bit louder in his head is a sign of the old Colby slowly fading away. The small part of him that was fighting the whirlpool he was being dragged into was slowly depleting. He didn't know how much longer he could hold out.
He read Sam's journal, his sweatshirt sleeves felt tight around his arms. He felt sick and more dread filled his stomach. It was Sam's voice that finally forced him to open the note book. The thousands of notes took hours to read but by the end of it tears dried on Colby's cheeks and he knew. He knew he was going down the same path the the blonde had walked. He read the same words he felt, they were scarily accurate. Sam had multiple voices, Colby only had one but there thoughts and feelings seemed to now be identical. Sam was dead and Colby could feel death's cool hand slide into his own. He knew what he had to do.
Mrs. Brock was relieved to see that her son finally opened up the door for her. Her fists hurt from the constant knocking and her eyes were begging for sleep. With out a spoken word she pulled her son into her arms and held him close, grease, stench, and all. Colby cried into his mother's shoulder as Mrs. Brock hummed an unfamiliar tune,
"Mama?" Colby whispered, his voice tight. Mrs. Brock hugged him tighter, he hadn't called her mama in years, "Yes, sweetie?" Mrs. Brock tried to keep her voice steady, trying to be strong for her broken son,
"I need help mama, I need help." Colby cried. His mother nodded an okay, neither one of them letting go of one another.
Colby could still feel death's hand in is, he could still hear Sam's seething voice, and he knew they would never go away.
A/N: Hope you guys like this. I did tear up a little while writing this. ~Nightmare
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Sweatshirts in July *Solby*
Fanfiction*Completed but unedited* Colby Brock needed an easy summer job. Samuel Golbach needed a friend. Neither wants to talk but both of them learn to. One wears t-shirts and the other one wears sweatshirts in July. Trigger Warning, there will be death, se...
