Lance was drowning in his thoughts. Drowning in his feelings.
He wanted to watch the blood flood from his wrists like a river as his vision blurred and blackened, but his hands wouldn't let him.
What to do? What to do?
His hands shook wildly and tears ran down his face at the constant flow of thoughts.
He wanted to jump off the cliff over looking the beautiful blue ocean in his hometown. To smell the salt water and have it envelope him one last time, but his legs just wouldn't allow it.
What to do? What to do?
He jumped every time the phone would chime signalling he had a text from a friend.
He wanted to grab the rope from the closet, tie it to fit his neck. To grab a chair, stand up on it and look out at the stars. To kick it out from underneath him and hand there boneless.
What to do? What to do?
He stuck his fingers down his throat anytime he ate anything. Afraid it was poisoned. Afraid that it was tainted.
He wanted to take a bottle of pill and let his body drift into an endless slumber.
What to do? What to do?
He had gotten so thin. Purging every little thing that entered his body. Ignoring his friends.
He wanted to walk out into traffic and allow a semi to run over him at full speed.
What to do? What to do?
He looked in the mirror for the first time in a while. A sickly thin, dirty haired, dull eyed male stared back.
He gasped at the sight, hands shaking wildly.
Who are you? Who are you?
He avoided the mirror. Hiding his face any time he'd go into the bathroom.
Who are you? Who are you?
He got so tired of seeing that thing in the mirror that he punched it.
Blood trickled down his hand. He laughs. He was going insane.
Who are you? Who are you?
One day he looked into the shattered mirror. The question swirling in his head like the eye of a hurricane. He didn't recognize his voice.
"Who are you?" he croaked.
... ...
The vision in the mirror morphed. Lance screamed when it began to reach its smoke black hands out of the mirror.
He reels back, body hitting the wall.
... ...
He screamed when a knock was at the door.
"Go away!" he shouted, shaking wildly.
... ...
Another knock. Creeeak.
A figure walks in. Face blurred, body blurred.
Who is that?
... ...
"Come back to us, Lance. We miss you. I- we need you."
Who's voice is that?
... ...
As his demons take over the room swirls with smoke. He gasps for air, screaming for help.
No one could hear.
... ...
He awakes to beeping and a bright white light.
"..W-where..am I..?" he croaked, voice scratchy.
"Lance!"
That voice..
You're home. You're home.
His eyes met with Keith's violet ones.
"I am home." he whispers, tears falling down his face.
Uhhh if you don't really get this Lance was unconscious and hallucinating after losing so much blood + taking pills after a suicide attempt.
This was sort of a dream of sorts.
The black smoke I involved was sort of a shadow figure I saw a while ago.
Uhh but yeah.
I'm not in the best of places.
