Once Upon A Time ✓

02 | reality; wake

^ song above is Before You Go by Lewis Capaldi

welcome to the second chapter :)

please point out any mistakes you find, I tried my best to edit this.

enjoy :D

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MANY TIMES PEOPLE would describe depression as a demon which lurks deep in your soul, one that is etched into your heart and mind like a string woven into fabric.

It is as difficult as a stain to remove, but not impossible. Over time and hard work the stain would fade but there would always be remnants of it that you can never get rid of.

Unfortunately for me, it has been two years and the stain that was left had hardly faded.

As I slumped against the glass cubicle of my shower with the water spray drenching my clothing and hair with cold liquid, I took another swig of my beer. Hugging my knees, I buried my face between the crook, taking in harsh breaths while I tried to soothe the numbing headache I was experiencing.

"I hate this, I hate me," I mumbled incoherently under my hushed breaths of air.

When I stood, my world started spinning and my head was hammering, causing me to wince. Stumbling out of the shower cubicle stark-naked, I shakily walked out of my bathroom and towards the body length mirror, gulping in several swigs of beer.

Trailing my red and swollen eyes over my scarred body through the mirror, my mind pointed out every imperfection it found.

Bush coloured hair, long, wrinkled and tired face, cracked lips, red nose, bitten nails, lame celery figure and of course, scars - this was me in reality, not that facade of a Victoria's Secret model in my dreams.

Scars, they were evidences of my pain, the suffering that I went through that drove me to cut myself. I remembered the sick feeling of my numb body oozing with blood, my vision blurry as I slowly succumbed to sleep. Then the shouting of voices and panic. The next thing I knew, I had woken up in the hospital to the beeping of the heart monitor, with the news that I had to attend therapy.

Now I had other ways to cope, and that was drinking. Recently my depression had been okay so I was sober for quite a few months, my condition slowly but surely improving.

Then my father had to fuck it all up by appearing at our doorstep, striking a screaming roulette between him and my mum.

The reminder of my father sent painful emotions down to the pits of my stomach. It was bad enough to relive my perfect life before Dad cheated on my mum, on me, on us, in my dreams, but it was worse when you have to deal with the harsh reality by yourself.

I couldn't go to Mum either. She didn't cry when she found out but I could hear the agonising pain in her croaked voice as she yelled at Dad to leave, which he had so willingly done. Mum after the divorce threw herself to work longer hours and further distances from home, since she was a secretary of a well-known company. If I ever mentioned the words 'father', 'dad' or his name, she would go off on a ranting rampage about him being this and that.

Same situation with my father, one word about Mum and he would start shit-talking her.

I could feel the anger boiling in the pits of my hollow body as I stared into my soulless brown eyes through the mirror, my loose grip on the glass bottle of beer tightening as memories broke down the floodgates I had implaced in my mind to contain my pain.