Praise My Sins..!

Tears & Blood

{WARNING- SELF HARM IN THIS SMOL CHAPTER!!}

Waking up, a pounding fuzzy nauseous feeling hit my head immediately.
I woke up In a dark room, with only a nightstand lamp turned on, casting light onto mostly the floor.
I shuffled around panicky, before sitting up.
I checked my surroundings.

Hm..
A dark room
Black walls
Black bed sheets?
Damn, I'm kinda jealous.
Ok but wait
Where am I?

I heard a noise come from the floor.

A familiar pale face was asleep on the floor beside me.

Oh
Shit

THATS MR FUCKING WAY
OH
MY
GOD
NO

I stood up frantically, and crept to the opposite side of the bed, where I slowly lowered myself to the ground.
The bedroom door was open, so I took run directly out of it.
A staircase leading to what looked like a front door was placed directly in front of the bedroom, giving me a perfect exit way.

I sprinted down the stairs, out of the house, and into his driveway. Thankfully, he lived in the city, and I could see my street from there.

I kept running.
I didn't stop.

As I reached my door, I tested the handle.
It was still unlocked, as I left it the day before.
My dad hasn't been home in 4 days.
Oh well.

As I slammed the door behind me, I sank to the ground against it.
A stream of tears and sobs erupted from my eyes, and I was overtaken by the nasty words I constantly tried to suppress.

You are ugly
You are worthless
You are FAT
And UGLY
Nobody really likes you
You should just kill yourself
"Kill yourself"

Although the panic had overtaken me the moment I woke up at Way's, the real and very disruptive thoughts cane back as soon as my mind got a slight bit of calmness.

I stood up, still soaked in tears, and made my way to the kitchen. There, I grabbed a big bottle of tequila and started to down it like it was only water.
These words had to go away.

But they didn't.
The words got worse.

After about hour of sobbing and drinking, and was totally hammered.

I was drunk, except the words were more blunt this time.
Each word seemingly stabbing me as it made its way into my thoughts.

I did what I taught myself to do when I was hurt.
What I did when I wanted to let go, but couldn't.
What I did when I needed to feel something.

I found the same piece of broken glass, and used it on my arm.
Again and again.

Wow, how pathetic.
You haven't known these people for even two months, and your crying like a little bitch?

It wasn't just Andy or Way, it was my depression. Tearing away at my mind and soul piece by piece every single fucking day.

I couldn't handle this anymore.

Nobody gives a shit about me.

My mom obviously doesn't.

The thoughts grew stronger and more louder by the second, until my mind filled with blackness, and I passed out.
On the kitchen floor.