Set My Whole World On Fire (Austlan Cashby)

Emergency

Oh look, a magical twentieth chapter has arrived! This chapter is really weird and junk, but progress is made, I think. It's only nine and I'm exhausted, so you better enjoy this, yo! Oh, and you should be seeing my new Austlan Cashby book in the next month or two ;D

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Another night drenched in sweat, stifling my sobs. This was the fourth night in a row that I had had a nightmare. I had been sleeping on the Carlile's couch since I had broken up with Kellin, and they had yet to discover I was dreaming about each event, each beating, each harmful word. Each night, I would wake up from my nightmares to lock myself in the bathroom for an hour at least harming my skin.

Austin was too depressed to notice what was going on right in front of him. It hurt me that what I was doing was so obvious and he couldn't see it. He didn't allow him to notice that I was cutting myself a wrist. Every empty glance, every worthless smile made me feel worse. I was to my breaking point. I wanted to die. I wanted to not be alive anymore.

I was a hopeless case. There's hope for the helpless, but no help for the hopeless. There's always hope for the willing, but right now, I've become comfortable feeling like the walking dead. I'm hollow inside. What was left of Alan is gone. An life of abuse had killed him.

A loud sob escaped my lips, tearing at my throat. I quickly covered my mouth, but anxiety boiled for fear that I had been heard. Even if I had, no one would care. They never cared. I didn't deserve to be cared for.

Kellin had made me hate myself so intensely. My father had made me hate myself so intensely. My mom leaving started this whole mess. Why did she have to leave me? Why couldn't my mom have taken me with her? Why did she leave my dad to beat me? I didn't deserve that! Now, I'm not so sure.

I got up from the couch and made my way to the bathroom. I was shaking, my legs hardly holding me up. I didn't have the energy to eat much anymore. I wasn't anorexic and I could care less about how much I weighed, but eating was just too much of a chore.

When I got to the door of the bathroom, I felt a hand place itself on my shoulder. I turned around and screamed, bringing my arms up to protect my face from getting hit.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Alan. I forgot. What are you doing up? Why are you crying?" oh, so now Austin gave a damn about my well-being. Thanks, I totally didn't need that months ago.

"It doesn't matter." I told him, attempting to make my way into the bathroom again.

He grabbed my wrist, preventing me from moving and causing me to yelp in pain. His eyes widened and he lifted up my sleeve, his mouth hanging open when he saw the amount of fresh wounds now bleeding a vivid red.

"I thought you stopped." he said. I looked at him, my face scrunching up in anger. He was joking, right? I had told him I hadn't stopped self-harming!

"Well, you're an idiot. Can you just leave me alone? You're not what I need right now." I glared daggers at him, silently demanding me let me go.

"What do you need?"

"I need my blade, thank you very much. Now, will you let me go and allow me to tend to my own devices like I've had to for the past seven months?" I knew that I had hurt him with my words. Two of those months he wasn't responsible for, but I wanted someone to blame. I wanted to take my anger out on someone.

Austin had hurt me. He hurt me every day. He hurt me when he left me and started dating Oli. He hurt me when he came back and hardly talked to me, focusing all his time on Oli. He hurt me when he hurt himself. He starved himself. He allowed himself to become so sick. I was so angry.