Twisted #Wattys2019

Chapter IV. Lǫ̬̻̤͖͓̎́̒̇͘̕͟͝c̨̟̜͙̻͇͓̏̈́̉̑̐̔͂k̢̡̩̰̖̥̅̎͒͊̄͂͑͜

--Chapter contains gore/details/suicide attempt-skip to next chapter in case you're sensitive to these kind of things. This chapter is in no way intended to support suicide. If you're struggling with this I advise you to skip this chapter and talk to someone you trust about your problem--

I snatched the note from the door and went inside, paranoid and unknowing of what awaited me. The dark room got illuminated by a small candle on the table, again a note near it.

As I stepped further and took the note in my hands, the room lit up by the light I had turned on after entering and shutting the front door, the pristine handwriting was clear to be Raphael's as it was identical to the handwriting on the note I had found on the door. He had been in my apartment. The serial killer was in my apartment in one of the past few days.

I sat down and did my usual routine of turning on the TV and watching the news.

"-Police have done many interrogations but so far no sign of who the killer may be-some say they may have fled the site-others say a family gives them cover-the broad and tall figure is yet to be found-now to Jenna for the we-"

Annoyedly I turned off the TV, staring at my own reflection yet again. Staring back at my own dead and soulless eyes as I idly sat there, watching my body have its usual spasms, my head jerking to the side as usual...but all so lifelessly. As if I'd lost everything I had once achieved, as if everything I had achieved got shredded to pieces. Once I maybe had felt loved and cared about, but currently all I felt was hatred, my heart filled with self loathing and all the hatred I had received from everyone around me in the village. I was that one freak. That one rude person. The unwanted one.

The one person who seemed to care hurt me. The one person who seemed to care wanted me dead.

I ruined it for him.
He wanted it badly.
He stabbed my side for a reason.
I wasn't supposed to be here.

I got up once I made up my mind, my heart racing as I grabbed a pill bottle, a sharp knife and locked myself in the bathroom.

Pills.
From my hand to my mouth, then swallowed and down to my stomach.
The knife sliding across my arm like a pen over paper, writing on my forearm in blood.
Water running in the bathtub as I laid down in it, blood soon tinting the water dark red as it slowly filled up the tub.
Black soon filled my sight.

I slowly opened my eyes upon loudly hearing the sirens of an ambulance. I was being rushed to hospital. I wasn't dead yet. Yet I felt incredibly weak.
What happened next went by in a rush, all a blurry fragment of my memory.
Upon waking up again, a familiar face was sitting on a chair beside me. It was Raphael. "Hey...you doing okay?~" he seemed genuinely worried. He was a betrayer. He didn't actually care. He gently took ahold of my cold hand, gently caressing the top of it with his thumb"~why did you do that...? It could've ended so badly...~". Maybe he did care...