This is life.

49 ➤ Reliving memories

DISCLAIMER- Strong self harm followed by encouraging/provocative language, and (possibly relatable) mental issues on the character, it may trigger and I do not wish to be responsible. It is your choice to read this chapter although you can easily skip it, it's a short chapter. If you do end up harming yourself because of this please inbox me so we can discuss the matter and so I can apologise personally. I feel like shit after just writing it in the first place. Don't judge me, self harmers or the characters of ANY book that self harm because I do know what it feels like. No I am not insensitive I just thought this scene in particular would be necessary, m'kay?

My hand shakes as I feel the cold blade touch my skin. All I take in are the countless scars on my arm. It looks absolutely disgusting. I bring my hand away and sigh in relief. I know I didn't want to do that. What am I doing?

There's a voice in my head working against me, telling me I should continue. I struggle to go against it as I put the blade down on the sink.

"What are you doing?"

I jump at the voice.

"You should have done this hours ago and now you're hesitating?" She questions cruelly. "Unbelievable." She scoffs. I ignore her as I begin running my nails across my arm lightly. "You're tempted." I can hear the amusement in her voice. "How long has it been since you've hurt yourself?" She asks.

"Weeks? Months? You're craving the feeling now, aren't you? Don't you want to watch your skin rip open? Don't you want to smell that delicious blood of yours? Don't you want this room and this apartment to be drenched in the scent of your blood as you bleed to death? Or do you wish that you can just stop being a little pussy and slit your wrists already? I know you want to. So do it. Do it already." She motivates.

I inhale and exhale from my mouth, feeling extremely nervous. I pull down my sleeve before letting myself get into deep thoughts. Instead I went back into the guest room and grabbed the methadone, bringing it into the kitchen and setting it on the counter. I open a random cupboard, in hopes of finding a measuring cup. I do manage to find one, and I put it next to the bottle of methadone.

I very quietly open their fridge and scan their items, feeling a bit at ease when I find raspberry cordial. I pull out the cold container and close the fridge door, growing annoyed when I see her again. "So you're going to try ignoring me again?" She asks as she crosses her arms. I don't look at her as I opened the methadone, pouring 60ml into the measuring cup.

"You'd really rather just do this? Isn't it sad?" She asks. I continue to ignore her as I put in a random amount of cordial with the liquid; I brought it to my mouth and swallowed it, trying not to gag at the taste. The cordial does help, just not as much as I'd like it too.

"You know I'm glad I put you in a coma." She says. I put the cordial back into the fridge before rinsing the measuring cup. She stands next to me and sighs dramatically. "But I also hate that I have. I mean, I'm glad I was able to steal almost half a year of your life, but somehow...you survived, not only that- it somehow magically made you more likable. Britney this, Britney that. Gosh why does everyone love a fuck up like you? It doesn't make sense."

I feel myself begin to tear up, but I dismiss the thoughts and her words as I put the cup on the rack full of clean plates, glasses and silverware.

I make sure the lid to the methadone bottle is closed before holding it in my hands as I walked back down the dark, narrow hallway of the apartment. "Come on, pussy." She walks beside me as she talked in a heavily provocative manner. I grit my teeth in frustration. "Oh, you're going to snap, you're gonna to snap!" She sang. "I know that face! You gave it to me when your first saw me. Come on now, come on, don't give up yet, you're almost there."