Behind Blue Eyes || • Randy

Chapter 1.

Cold water was hitting my skin, making me shiver with every drop fallen. Hot water had been turned off a few days ago for non-payment, but I'm used to it, it feels even better.

I'm sitting in on the cold shower floor, which is not good for me to do, but it makes me feel alive. Tears are running down my face, blending with water drops - I can't control them anymore, not that I ever could. I just can't stop them. It's like they're living their own life.

Now I'm standing in front of my broken mirror, looking at my cheeks that used to have dimples, whenever I would smile recklessly and freely. And those eyes - they used to have a light in them, but it faded away.
Nowdays I'm looking like a mess. Cheekbones are sharper than knife, bruises and scars all around my face, skin is pale as I am somebody's nightmare.

And I'm sorry, I just can't control it.

Now I'm standing right next to my sister, helping her to count the money in her purse. But it's almost empty.
I looked on her tiny figure and some tears suddenly appeared in my eyes.
She was wearing our mother's sky blue dress. She looks pretty. She still looks pretty with these red eyes, messy hair and cold blush on her cheeks.
I'm sorry, I didn't stop it...

I'm laying right next to my mom. She's whispering sweet nothings to me, telling me that I'll be okay.
But I won't.
Because she isn't okay.

"What's going on behind your blue eyes, Andrew?" She said, looking through my bluish orbs. Her hand was stroking my hair - she tried to calm me down, but it didn't work. Not when there's nothing I could change anymore. "Please, don't give up on it. Forget about me, Andrew. No one can help me, I'm doomed, but you're not. Please, live on. I know, it's hard, but you can do it. Do it for me..."

And now I'm just a crying mess.
Tears running down my cheeks, leaving wet trips on them. I'm bitting my lips, holding my screams. I'm trying to hold my pain inside me, but it doesn't work...
I'm looking down on my hands, thinking about blade in my pocket, but I won't touch it.
Because there's no free place on my slashed hands.
And I'm just falling down on the cold floor, shaking from the pain.

I'm so sorry, I just can't stop it.

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