Your days are numbered.
Your days are numbered.
YOUR days are NUMBERED.
They're coming for me.
The thoughts keep running through my head, I can't get them to go away. I know exactly who sent the note.
Them.
They're coming for me.
Just like they came for my parents.
Shuddering, I slip the note in my back pocket, and rush up the stairs to my room. Screaming out of pure dread, I check the room, making sure there are no monsters hiding out in here. It is Halloween after all.
Once my room is cleared, I run blindly to my bathroom, only seeing the eyes.
I make it, and grabbing my pocket knife I had hidden a little while ago, I roll up my sweatshirt sleeve.
Flipping out the knife, I cut long, deep cuts.
CUT.
CUT.
CUT.CUT.CUT.
The blood is everywhere, but why do I need to clean it up? I might not even be here tomorrow to explain.
Whimpering, I drop my knife, and fall to the ground.
Defeated.
I don't want to die yet.
I don't want to die like my parents did.
Brutally.
Maybe it'll be good though. They've already destroyed me emotionally, why not physically? I should've known I'd never get justice for my parents. I was only five, after all. How much do I really remember?
Not holding anything back, I cry. And cry. And cry. It's all over. Everything's over. Nothing to hold back now.
Nothing to hide.
After feeling bad for myself for a little while longer, I wipe my tearstained face with the back of my hand, and get up. Walking back to my room, I search, and soon my fingers are grasping my sketch book. Gathering my little strength, I rip it.
Into a million little pieces.
No more eyes.
When I'm done, my floor is covered in little pieces of paper. Almost like it snowed. My own personal winter land. Maybe my last snow I'll ever get to see.
Who knows?
They do.
Laying down in the paper, I close my eyes, and for once, I don't see the haunting eyes.
They'll be here for me soon enough.
I'm soon dozing off.
For once, my mind is blank.
No eyes.
---------------------------------------------------------------
"Whoa. What happened here?" I open my eyes, to see Josh staggering over to me. I can smell the alcohol on him from here.
Sitting up, I notice the blood on my wrists are dried, paper stuck to some of the cuts.
Everything comes back to me in a rush.
The note.
My cutting.
My winter Wonderland.
My eyes widen in alarm, realizing what Josh has probably already figured out, even in his drunken state.
He has to know..
"You cut? Why? You're so pretty." His words are slurred, as he plops down next to me. Close.
Not touching though.
I ignore his compliment, and hide my wrists, blushing. I look around, and snatch a piece of paper, and a pen.
Writing, I pass him a note, a little panicked.
Please don't tell.
"Why would I tell? Look I do it too." I know he wouldn't be telling me this if he were sober, but still, it feels good to know that he's comfortable enough to show me this part of him.
He slips out of his shirt, and I notice instantly how thin he really is. I can see his ribs, and his hipbones. He has no stomach.
What is this boy doing to himself?
"Stop staring at my body. This is what I'm showing you." He puts his wrists in my face, and after he knows I got a good look at the cuts, he moves to the ones on his stomach and hipbones.
There are tons.
All over.
More than me.
Oh, god what has this boy been through?
"There's more on my thighs, Wanna see?" He pulls off his pants, and then he's standing in front of me, in only his boxer briefs.
His cuts are everywhere.
Grabbing my paper, I write something else:
What has happened to you in your life?
"I'll tell you that some other time." He smiles at me, and something in his face changes. "Oh, crap, I'm gonna be sick." He runs to the bathroom, and from here, I can here him spewing his guts out into the toilet bowl.
Standing up, I start gathering my papers, and carry them to the trash. Wandering into the bathroom, I hold back a shriek.
Standing there, is Josh.
Buck naked.
He's bleeding, and tears are streaming down his face.
"I'm just like him. I don't want to be like him, Camber. I'm scared." He's sobbing, and I watch him take my pocket knife and slice his own body.
I feel so bad for him, but I can't touch him. I won't.
Silently, I go to the shower, and turn it on. I point to it, and I guess he gets the sign. He drops the knife, and goes and climbs into the shower.
Water running down his body, he looks at me. "Help me. Please." He gestures for me to get in with him, and shrugging, I do.
What have I got to lose?
He washes himself, obviously sobered, staring at me.
I know this will be hard to explain in the morning, but at this moment, it feels right.
He feels right.
Nothing else matters, as long as I'm with this boy.
1. The song on the side, Monster You Made Me by Pop Evil, I think it describes Camber almost perfectly, you agree?
2. The pic on the side is another of Camber :3
3. Do you guys actually want this to become a trilogy?
4. Whose your favorite character? Just wondering.
5. Dedicated to THExABUSEDxANGELx because she doesn't pressure me, and isn't one of those people who says I take to long to upload, etc.
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Silently Screaming
Teen Fiction"So that brings me back to the dream. I was there again, but this time, I was him. Beating some little kid, wasted out of my mind. I think the dream has to do with when I came home from that party, drunk. It scared the hell out of me, Camber. I don'...
