call me by your name - mixed book

KILL YOURSELF •timothée chalamet imagine•

little disclaimer:
This is gonna be really brutal and emotional. If you're not able to deal with this stuff dont read it please!
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„So y/n how are you doing?"
I looked up to see Timothée and Jack standing next to my locker.
Because I was sick of them pushing me around I didnt reply anything to his question and wanted to take my books out of my locker.
„Hey! I asked you something!" Jack yelled and came closer. I took my math book with shaking hands while Jack had already kicked me in the leg.
It hurt badly! So I bit my lip, took a deep breath and grabbed my other books.
But the second I pulled my hand out, Jack slammed my locker door closed with half of my hand between the door.
I screamed in pain, dropped all my books and stared down at my bruised and bleeding right hand.
Jack was just laughing but Timothée didnt even say anything.

„So honey... Want me to stop by after school?"
Jack then said while I really tried to hold back my tears from all the pain on my hand.
Quietly I shook my head, then bent down to get my books back.
When I hold them I felt a sharp pain in my Jaw from where Jack had kicked me again.

Didnt he see how fucking painful all this was??

„Stop." i whispered but he didnt even care, grabbed me by my shoulder and slammed me against my locker.
„Never. I will never ever stop y/n, you know why? Because you're a fucking slut alright? No one likes you! Everyone here wants you dead! Why the fuck dont you understand that? We all would laugh if u died. So come on, take all those cute little pills you've been storing in your room. No one would fucking care. You're useless, worth nothing! NOTHING!
No guy would ever ever date you. No one cares about you. Please kill yourself!"

By then i was crying like crazy. He had still pushed me against the hard cold wall.
I looked over to Timothée. He just stood there and looked my right in the eyes. My red, teary, swollen eyes.
Was it guilt in his'? Timothée Chalamet feeling guilty? Definitely not.

Suddenly Jacks grip loosened and I ran through the hallway, past all those kids that were staring at me.
But I didnt care.
I ran outside to my car, hopped in and cried even harder. My hand was bleeding, my jaw was bruised, my leg hurt as well but the worst pain was in my heart. His word kept repeating themselves over and over in my head. •Please kill yourself.•
Maybe he was right. No one would care. I have no friends, my mom died, my dad is barely home, my sister and brother both left me.
I wasnt worth anything. He was right about everything. Its not nice hearing that but in my case all of that is true. I should kill myself.

So I wiped away my tears, tried to calm down for a second and i drove home. It was a quiet lonely drive home. Usually i got the radio playing but this time I felt like this was my last car ride so I wanted to feel the silence.

And then here I was. Sitting on my black carpet in my room, with a hand full of pills in front of me. If I swallow these, everything will be over. No more harassments, no Jack, no Timothée! Nothing. No fucking heartbeat from myself!
I slowly took my water bottle and I swallowed the first pill. Then I stared down at my left hand with the rest of the pills. I wanted to do that. I'm going to do it.
So 20 minutes passed, I was tired so I decided to lay down in my bed, fall asleep and not wake up again.
At least it would be a peaceful death.

When I was half asleep I felt a pair of strong hands gripping my almost lifeless body and dragging me into the bathroom. The person set me into the bathtub and i felt water run over my puffy face, my clothes and my cold skin.
I didnt really react, it felt like I was going to pass out soon.
So I also didnt recognize the person that was trying to save me here.
A couple of seconds later I felt two fingers in my mouth reaching all the way down to my throat making me gag. The fingers got deeper causing me to puke onto my lap. And again. And a third time.
Tears were running down my face, the smell of my own vomit reaching my nose.
And a last fourth time of puking until I didnt feel anything anymore.
Nothing.
It was over.
All of it.
Thank god Im here.