Please... Save Me (Stud4Stud)

Chapter 1

I splashed around viciously, trying my hardest to breathe but it was no use. I was gonna die, and I had to except it. No matter how hard I thrashed the water kept its path to my lungs. So, I stopped.

Stopped the fighting...

Stopped the screaming...

I just stopped.

Laying still at the bottom of the bathtub, I relished in my life choices. Wondering what went wrong. Questioning what would have happened had I worn more feminine clothes at all times. Had I not came out to my foster parents. Had I just not existed at all.

The pressure from my shoulders was released and the muffled sound of my foster mother's prayers subsided. The water around me wavered back and forth, my hair swaying softly to the beat.

Though I was ready, I just couldn't carry out the deed. I wouldn't be able to hold my breath for much longer and I knew that, on instinct, I would jump out of the water.

Instead of waiting I slowly rose from my bathtub, the warm water running down my face, through my hair, and down my back. My sweatpants clinging desperately to my legs with a constant drip.

Seeing my phone across the bathroom floor, completely untouched, I sigh thankfully. Though I couldn't get it yet, it was nice to know that it was there. Well, that and the fact that I had been recording the whole ordeal with my foster parents. No one would even think to believe the type of bullshit I had to go through on a daily basis. But today was child's play compared to our regular run-ins.

I quickly stripped my soaked clothes before taking a set of towels from my bathroom closet. Drying myself was harder than expected do to my wounds and bruises. I was gonna have to find a way for them to go away before school on Monday. It was the middle of my Senior Year and the last thing that I needed was for someone to find out what my life was really like at home. Not only will I be ridiculed for pretending to be something I wasn't, but I would be humiliated. And worst of all, stuck will the honest truth.

My life is not perfect. I don't have a real family. I don't have any real friends. I don't even have someone loyal by my side. My (soon to be ex) girlfriend has been cheating on me with everything that moves for the past few months and still forces herself to believe I haven't found out. And the only reason I've yet to leave was the fact that she was all I had. She was the only person that, no matter what, would always come around. Even if her intentions weren't true, it felt good to have someone.

I am brought out of my thoughts by a familiar stinging sensation not only in my eyes, but on my upper left thigh. My lip shakes violently as I realize what I am doing.

The cycle never ends. I cut for a short period of time, stop to let my skin heal completely, wait two more weeks, and then cut again. I have yet to stop one hundred percent because I have yet to find a reason to. My parents left me behind in a sick and twisted world, not giving a damn about how it could effect me. My girlfriend is cheating on me, pushing me farther and farther away. And nobody gives a damn about me unless they want something from me.

I am useless in this world. No one wants such a fucked up person like me in their life. I don't even deserve the one I have.

A sizzle from freshly torn skin causes me to look down. I freeze. I sat naked on the toilet seat, three fresh gashes spread wide across my thighs. My right hand shook with a sturdy grip on the small blade. Blood dripping from my leg to the bathroom floor.

When did I get here?

A violent wave rushed through my body as my anger rises, thick tears building in the base of my eyes.

This has to stop.

I stand slowly, leaning on the sink as I clean my blade and put it away.

Now to my wounds.

My eyes meet the reflection of the empty shell in the mirror. Eyes dark and swollen. Mocha skin pale and dull. Lips cracked and peeling. Hair clung to the sides of my face. I snatched another towel from the small stack and scrubbed from my face to the back of my head. My vision grew spotty and I closed my eyes, holding onto the counter.

My blood loss was more than average tonight and I was definitely gonna need stitches soon. Instead, I settled with cleaning my leg and wrapping a bandage around each gash individually. Then, carefully wrapping my thigh with one big bandage and tying a scarf around it.

There was a hushed buzz from the corner of the bathroom.

My phone...

I stumble over, collecting the device and checking the time.

'Great. 12:32. They should be asleep by now' I thought.

I tightened the towel around my body and walked out of my bathroom and into my conjoined bedroom. As I suspected, my bedroom door was wide open. All of the lights throughout the house were off and my bathroom light was very bright. If they were awake, they would be able to know that I came out and would most likely have Carl, my foster father, beat my ass.

I quickly cut off my bathroom light and close my bedroom door, locking it. Shuffling over to my dresser, I throw on a pair of boxers, a sports bra, some socks, and a pair of basket ball shorts. Once dressed in my sleepwear, I throw myself into my bed, silently dreading what tomorrow might bring.

I had to get out of this house.

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