The boy next door || a.i.

0.2

Self - harm:

/sɛlfˈhɑːm/

noun- deliberate injury to oneself, typically as a manifestation of a psychological or psychiatric disorder such as depression or as a coping mechanism for issues such as abuse.

*• * • * •

Emma's P.O.V

I sat alone in my room. Not very different from the rest of my time spent in there. It's quiet in there, away from everything. Everyone. Listening to music is my only escape, from the abuse and the fights, the bruises and the cutting. And most of all, the yelling, and all of the other issues that I've had to face every single day, of my entire life.

Once, someone said to me, "freeze your razors in a glass of water. Because by the time the ice melts, you might change your mind '

The boy next door...

~

I loved walking around my neighbourhood in London this time of year. I got to hear my feet scrunching through the leaves, and the sun peeking through the gaps in trees where the leaves had fallen. I made an effort to go for morning walks every day, apparently it reduces stress and clears your mind, but I haven't seen much of a difference in myself, and I've been doing it for a long time.

The cold wind whipped through my hair, as I payed close attention to the orange autumn leaves falling freely around me. It was early October, and the weather was become colder and colder by the day. I loved it. I never really liked summer that much, I was more or a cold-weather person. Summer was ok, I liked going to the beach, but the hot season brought all the horrible things with it. Sunburn, people fighting for the last bit of shade under the trees, dizziness from the heat, and never being able to sleep because of how hot it was getting. It was discusting.

As I turned into my street, I could see a whole bunch of trucks and vans parked outside the house next door to mine. As I walked closer, I could see that Men were moving boxes, bags, guitar cases and many more unusual objects from the street to the house, while two boys, about my age, were standing in the garden, instructing them on where to go. It wasn't anything new, seeing new people move in next door, the owners changed over all the time. At least these owners didn't look like drug dealers, or like the people who lived here prior, that owned roosters, that would crow on any given day and time.

When I got to the house, I walked around the trucks, making sure I made minimal to no eye contact, and quickly walked through the gate into my house.