The Golden Wolf

Skin

Hey Guys! This is the first story I've tried writing in a long time. College has gotten in the way of my writing. Let me know if y'all enjoy it and maybe I'll keep going on it. Thanks for the continuous support!

Picture is of Kaliya

Also, the main character's name is pronounced Kuh-LIE-uh, LIE as in the word lie, if that makes sense. The rest of the names should be easy to pronounce, but let me know in the comments if you aren't sure about anything. 

Feedback is always appreciated too. Thanks so much!

~Emily

Golden Child, 

Lion boy;

Tell me what it's like to conquer. 

Fearless Child, 

Broken boy;

Tell me what it's like to burn.

-oh darling, even rome fell // p.s.

Sobbing on my bed, begging God to kill me was a new low for me. I was too scared to kill myself though, and had a deep faith in God, but lately,

"Please, God. Kill me, please." I gasp out between sobs. "Let me die." Tears stream down my face in torrents of runny wet mascara and I can taste the salty snot running from my nose down onto my lips, but I don't bother to wipe it away. Nothing matters right now as I despair in my bed over my lost relationship. It's getting worse: the depression, the fits of absolute anguish that sweep over me randomly day after day after day. It been more than two weeks, and every day is harder than the last. I don't know why I bother to keep myself alive. I don't know why I bother day after day. Maybe because it would be more bothersome to kill myself, which is why I have resorted to begging God to do it for me. Praying is all I have left, but my faith is shaking and I don't even know if it's working anymore. I'm destined to be alone. I used to pray that God would bring him back to me, or send me an angel, but now I just pray that I will die.

The pillows on my twin bed are soaked in tears. I know my roommate will be back soon, but the last thing I want is for her to see me like this. She could find me dead, but I don't want to do it quickly. I scratched at my wrists and looked down at my phone, hoping for some sort of miracle in what I found on the screen. Instead, there's a message notification from the girl I wanted to be my maid of honor at my wedding. I'm going to kick you off the group chat again if you don't shut up. The next notification, also from her read, I'm blocking you.

Not only does my boyfriend hate me, but my best friend too. Pure hatred races through me. But it's not for my best friend, or for the boy I thought I would marry. It's anger at myself. How could I be so terrible at everything I'm doing, that I push everyone away? What kind of fuck up must I be in order to get everyone mad at me and make them all leave at the same time?

"Fuck you." I mumbled. In my bedside drawer I keep a bottle of sleeping pills, and I pull them out. I pry myself up from my bed and take my phone. In the bathroom, I take my razor, unsure of how I want to kill myself yet. Maybe they'll finally see how awful they have been to me.

I stuff the razor into the pill bottle and make my way toward the door. I open it, and have second thoughts, turning around only momentarily to grab a pen and paper from the kitchen drawer. I want to die, but I also need my boyfriend to know this isn't his fault. Even though it is. I'm not mad at him though. I'm mad at myself.