Burnt Out - Patrick Hockstetter.

Chapter 25; Pity.

"What's going on at home." I was taken by surprise, being shoved into a janitors closet on the science corridor.

I had no idea who it was. In the dark, I was struggling to make out who this person was. Their voice seemed familiar but still different. Then the light was flicked on.

"Ali? What do you want?" I asked, emphasising on the 'you' in disgust.

She rolled her eyes in response. "You were crying when you left the house, I'm not stupid."

"What no I wasn't?" I lied to her face.

"Patrick Hockstetter, do NOT lie to me." Ali scolded.

"What're you going to do about it, Princess?" I pushed, a smirk on my lips.

I wasn't expecting her to push me but then again, I wasn't expecting her to hop into my arms and make out with me either. I just shook my head and chuckled, she was a case to be pitied. And to think I liked this girl at one point. Fuck. Pity me instead.

"Please tell me, I want to help." Her mood flipped, and now she seemed concerned and not angry.

I scoffed. "You're hopeless."

She looked upset. I wasn't phased, she was just a little glitch I made up. A distraction. A mix up. A turn in events. I don't need her. She's a toy.

"Go back to your pretty boyfriend." I told, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans and leaning to the side.

"My 'pretty boyfriend' is the leader of your gang. I could get you killed." She pushed.

"God, you've changed. How long have we known you? Like, 6 months? And he's already changed you. You were so big and scary when we met you and now you can't do anything for yourself. Grow up, Talon. Bowers does not control you. He doesn't control me, or Vic. Maybe Belch, a little, but that's more just using him for his car." I ranted. This girl was a case and a half.

She didn't reply, just stared at me.

"Kill me yourself." I suggested, pushing past her and out into the hallway, walking in the crowd of students and towards the exit, away and towards my problems.

I almost pitied the creation. She was lonely and had been chosen by the most violent person I know. Bless her soul and wish her luck with that Hellboy.

Nearing my house, a car beeped it's horn besides me. There sat Belch and Vic, looking as 'friendly' as usual. I faked a smile and waved, continuing to walk. But they didn't drive away. I rolled my eyes and unlocked the door to my house.

"Inviting us in?" Vic called over.

"Wasn't planning on, no." I called back, entering the house and shutting the door behind me.

I threw my backpack into the kitchen and ran down the stairs to my den. Then I flopped down onto the sofa and just lay there, face down into the pillow that smelt of smoke, booze, food and sweat. A gross combination. I wasn't expecting it but I started to cry. I cried really hard into the pillow. I wasn't even sad, more frustrated. What I was frustrated about I will never know but I hate it.

-tw:: self harm-

In a hit of anger, I shot up and grabbed my lighter from the coffee table, sitting back down and lighting the flame. My mind was not in the right place. I lifted the lighter up to my hovering arm and lit the dark hairs on fire, the scent of burning hair disgusting me. I didn't want to go further but my body and brain and heart were all out of sync. The flame continued, now the blood under my skin beginning to bubble, the flesh turning a deep red. Layers of skin were distorting, leaving a bright pink. Gross.

Then the anger left. I was left crying, confused and in pain. Not a fun feeling but I wanted more. I needed more. Without thinking, I brought the lighter up to my arm and pressed the metal down into my arm. It burned. It burned it burned it burned. I hated it and loved it. I had gone so long without it but I needed more.

I lit the flame again and let it burn for a minuet or so then pressed into into my arm again, the curved rectangle indented where the flame would be, the metal shining and sinking into my skin.

God how I missed this.