Dan
I stayed in my room for days, eating nothing, not sleeping. I couldn't. There was no point.
I didn't want to keep myself alive.
A razor seemed to always be in the palm of my hand now. It was like a friend. One that actually helped me. One that didn't go behind my back. One that I could trust to do their job.
My carpet was covered in spots of blood, and another one appeared as I tore my skin open once more, this time on my legs.
Occasionally, my dad would come in my room to take out his drunk frustrations on my body, so I just sat there as bruises formed and old wounds were reopened.
No tears came from my eyes despite the unbearable pain that was inflicted to me.
I just sat there, my eyes empty and glazed over. I didn't care anymore. I didn't give a shit about what people said or did to me.
My tattoo was unconcealable. For some reason, make up and sharpie didn't work to colour in the cracks that now covered my cheeks.
Every time I lifted my hands to my face, they would always have small pieces of my tattoo on them when I drew them away. I was slowly crumbling. I'd been in bad places, but not this bad.
There was no a single thought left in my mind saying anything positive.
I had no hope.
No reason to stay.
Yet my body kept going.
Every time I tried to overdose, I just woke up a few days later with a groggy head and a pain in my stomach.
Every time I slept, I hoped that I wouldn't wake up again.
I prayed for the universe to be good to me just this once, and give me my final wish.
My mother made the right decision by ridding herself from me. I just wished she had thrown me off the cliff instead of herself.
YOU ARE READING
Tattooed Emotions
FanfictionEveryone has their mood and thoughts on their cheek in the forms of a constantly changing 'tattoo'. Everyone... apart from Dan. He's had a black rectangle haunting his life for years since his mum died. Now he wanders the school as an emotionless fr...
