•It All Started With A Phone Call•

TWĖLVĖ [v] [s] [sc]

RØRY
I woke up Friday morning in one of the worst lows I've ever experienced.

As soon as I came out of sleep it felt like a weight had been thrown into my chest and there was no way I could get it off.

I felt so bad that it made me physically sick, my head throbbed and my stomach churned.

I raced to the bathroom, only just reaching the sink before I let out everything in my stomach.

Slumping to the floor, I just felt so useless and weak. The tiles were cold against my bare legs but that was only half of the reason why I was trembling.

I gripped my hair and pulled so tight to stop the trembling in my hands.

My dream-or nightmare- brought this on.

I was in that house, she was there too, pulling the rope. On the other end of the rope, I was being tugged upward, a thick red line indenting into my neck from the rough coils of rope around it.

I clawed at it, my fingernails tarring off as my bare feet kicked freely in the air.

"Hold onto this, Grey." She'd demand, handing him the rope which he'd take. She'd strut over too me, her waist length red hair bouncing in time with her taunting steps.

She'd grab my cheeks in her hand, claw like nails digging into them, pulling on open wounds on my face. They were shallow so they could heal and i could go to school on Monday without raising suspicion.

"You're disgusting, Jake." She'd Tell me in a happy voice.

Jake.

The name I was actually given. They changed my name to Rory in the adoption proses when I'd burst into tears whenever I was called it.

"Mummy! Please!" I'd whimper back, choking on the rope around my throat.

She'd slap me across the face, scratching down my cheek with her jagged nails.

"Don't call me that, fag!" She bent down to grab one of her knives. She chose a butches knife and I'd whine, sobbing at her and begging her not to. "I saw what you've been watching on my phone! I though I told you not to go into PornHub! I saw the boys fucking! That was you! Getting off on disgusting shit like that!"

I screamed, the knife gliding down between my pecs and right down to my wiggles briefs.

Red blood pooled in crevices of my body and followed the shapes of my legs to pool also at the floor.

Grey, the man holding the rope tugged and I choked again.

"Own up to it!" She screamed at me barbarically, following my ribs with her knife. "Tell me how disgusting you are! Tell me what you did!"

"I did it!" I'd cry, foolishly believing that she'd let me go if I did. "I watched the video, I liked it! I really liked it!"

The blade sliced harder, showing me just how angry she was with me. She never cut deep, nothing that would take longer than three days to scab.

I was eight years old when that happened. I had shoved it down to the deepest part of my subconscious and hoped to never think of it again. Now I was here, wanting to kill myself on the bathroom floor of my uncles penthouse because of it.

I just felt so dark, it consumed my everything.

I couldn't help but know she was right, disgusting and vile and a fucking disappointed.

Hopelessness grabbed me by the fucking throat.

I want it to fucking end.

I want her out of my mind.

I want her gone.

I want him gone.

I want me fucking gone!

To stop myself from screaming and waking up my uncles, I stuff my fingers into my mouth, triggered my gag reflex but it didn't stop me from choking myself further on my own fingers.

After I minute of choking on my fingers and weeping I let myself breath, even though it was difficult with the shallow breaths I was taking in.

I wanted to stop feeling so weak, scared. I was so tired of being scared of her, of my fucking self.

I just wanted -needed it all to fucking stop. I needed to stop. I'm too tired, I'm too tired, I'm too fucking tired.

I pull myself up on the sink, my vomit still sticking to the walls of the basin. I felt bile rise in the back of my throat again.

I rip open my toiletries bag next to the tap and find a small box. I open it and pop as many tablets from the foil sheets as I could with my shaking hands.

"You're disgusting!"

"You're a disappointment!"

"I fucking wish you died!"

"I wish I never had you!"

"Just die!"

"Just die!"

"Just die!"

"Just fucking die..." I lift the pills and they touch my tongue.

"RORY!" I tried to swallow as fast as I could but I make eye contact with uncle Brendon in the mirror and I'm throwing up again.

The pills from my mouth fall into the sink and they're gone.

I collapsed onto my knees and Brendon has his arms around me.

"Let me go!" I beg of Brendon. I didn't mean from the hug, I meant from life. "Brendon! Please! I'm tired! I'm done!"

He rocks me and he's crying too.

Matt stands at the door, confused and concerned.

"No, Rory." Brendon whispers, pulling me to his chest. "It's okay, it's gonna get better, okay."

"No! It won't!" I scream. "It's never going to be okay!"

Matt crouch's at takes both of us into his arms.

"We love you, Rory." Matt mumbled, brushing my hair away. "Don't leave us, baby RJ."

I'm still shaking, I'm not feeling any better and I still want to fucking die, but I let Matt carry me into the living room that's too bright and big and white.

He calls my dads and I cry again when pa begs to talk to me, but I told Matt not to hand me the phone.

"You're so fucking weak"