Dysfunctional (Sequel to Soft Whispers)

Anywhere (pt.3)

I rubbed at my eyes, Ray had managed to get me to calm down. I don't know how because I was crying so damn hard. I was sitting on the picnic table again and I was staring blankly ahead.

I was twirling a cigarette in between my fingers. It was lit and burning. I pressed it down on my skin and cringed at the pain, but I kept it there. I didn't pull it away.

Bria, stop.

'I'd rather not'.

The cigarette was taken from my fingers and stomped into the ground.

"No more cigarettes for you" Chresanto spoke. He looked at me and I looked away.

"Do you want to go home?" Ray asked, he was looking at me with a serious look. I shook my head.

I refuse to be the reason why the night ends.

Chresanto gave me a worried look and I looked away from him because I honestly couldn't take seeing his big brown eyes. Not right now. 

I sniffed and ran my hand through my hair. I didn't know what to do; I can't smoke because Chresanto won't let me, I can't go for a walk because nobody wants me out of their sight, and I can't fucking talk. So what the hell do I do?

I felt someone's fingers make their way through my hair too and I looked up, it was Chresanto. He looked at me and gave me a tiny smile. "I think you just need some time to rest".

He pulled me into him and I sighed. My fingers messed with the material of his shirt. He rubbed circles onto my back and I closed my eyes.

I think I just need to go home. I'm sorry that I ruined the night you guys.

"No, Bri, it's okay" Jordan stated.

"Yeah, it's nothing" Jazmyne agreed.

Even though I wanted to believe what they said; I couldn't. I still felt guilty.

>>*<<

I stared blankly up at the ceiling as I laid in my bed. I was thinking about why everything had to happen to me. Why did Jacob leave me? Why did I have to be the reason my parents fought? Why did I have to be depressed?

Why did I have to fail my suicide attempt?

Bria.

Why couldn't I have just died?

Bria, come on.

I don't want to be here anymore.

It's not going to be like this forever, it's going to get better.

It can't rain this hard for this long, the sun's bound to come out again.

You can't let what's happening to you now, get the better of you.

'I want to believe you so bad. I really do'.

But you can't.

'I can't'.

I understand.

'You do?'

Yeah, when I was alive and my depression was real bad, everyone kept telling me I'd be okay, it was going to be alright. It's going to get better, and it did; when I met you... But then the voices just ruined everything; and it just went downhill. I just gave up.

I rolled onto my side. I couldn't sleep because my suicidal thoughts were keeping me awake. I honestly wanted to get up and find something that could bring me closer to death. Another handful of pills would be nice.

Bri, please. Don't do it. It's not going to help anything.

I rubbed my eyes and sighed.

>>*<<

"Open the door" Ray stated. "Please".

Bria, open the door.

"I don't know what you're doing in there, and I really hope it's not what I think it is, but if you unlock the door, I can help you". 

I looked down at the razor blade in my hand. I was sitting against the tub with my knees to my chest. I wanted to cut so bad, to just let everything out. God, I thought I was getting better. Fuck. I really don't want to do this anymore, I don't want take pills that aren't helping me. I don't want to be with someone who needs someone better; someone that doesn't have scars lining her arms and hips. I don't want to be here anymore. 

"Bri, please" Ray begged, the amount of anguish in his voice... It hurt. 

I wanted to open the door, I did, but I couldn't. Something was holding me back. I don't know if it was the urge to see my blood and to feel at peace just for a couple of seconds, or because I didn't want to see him worried about me. 

He's going to stay worried about you until you open the door.

I rubbed at my eyes. 

"I'm honestly thinking about getting mom and dad". 

Oh, God. 

I picked up my whiteboard that was beside me. 

Oh, God, please. Don't.

I slid the board underneath the door. 

"Well what am I supposed to do? You won't come out". He slid the whiteboard back under. 

Even if you get them, I still won't open the door.

"Bria, please, come on. I know what you're thinking about doing, and honestly it's not going to help you. It's going to make things worse". 

Nothing can make it worse, Ray. I think I'm at the lowest of lows by now. I want to die.

"I know" he said lightly, I could barely hear him say it. "I know".

I eyed the blade in my hand and began to think about how Prozac wasn't working, how I failed a suicide attempt, how my parents were fighting because of me... How Chresanto might be leaving me. 

I looked down and made a deep cut along my wrist. 

I made another. 

And another.

And another. 

"Bri?"

My tears blurred my vision and I bit my lip because it hurt. Not the cutting, but everything else. Everything else just hurt. 

"Do you want me to call Chresanto over?" 

I sniffed and thought about what he just asked me. 

Yes.

"Okay. I'll call him".
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Sorry for any mistakes. Ten or some chapters left.
Love,
Me.