Don't Leave Me

Chapter 47 - Hey Taylor

Emily's POV:

I went in my room and laid on my bed, endlessly scrolling through Twitter.

"Hey, dinner's almost ready. Get washed up and come down." Taylor said, picking in through the doorway.

"Great." I mumbled under my breath.

"What was that?" She questioned.

"Nothing." I responded.

"I didn't make anything too bad. Just salad and chicken." She said reassuringly.

"I don't think you get it. Everything's too bad and I'm not fucking washing my hands."

I stormed out of the room, all the way downstairs, and sat in the chair, almost knocking it over with my huge ass.

Taylor came down moments later and put a heaping bowl of salad and a piece of chicken the size of a grizzly bear in front of me.

"Trying to fatten me up even more, huh." I mumbled, placing one of my hands on my forehead.

She sat down in front of me, with her food, and put her hand on top of mine.

"Quit being so fuckin' nice." I got up from the table, threw the chair on the floor, and went in to the bathroom.

Trigger Warning

I know what you're thinking. I'm such a bitch. I am what I am.

I pulled my emergency blade out of my shoes and started slicing at my wrist.

One cut. Two cuts. Three cuts, four. Just sitting here watching the blood pour.

Five cuts, six cuts, seven cuts, more.

"Emily." Taylor gasped.

Crap. I was too focused on using my blade that I forgot to lock the door.

"Hey Taylor." I said weakily.

"Sit down on the toilet, why don't you."

"Oh, wouldn't you love to see that." I smirked.

"Not what I mean." She sighed and grabbed a box of band aids out of the cabinet.

After I sat down, she started bandaging all of them up.

"Why?" She asked.

"I think you know." I rolled my eyes.

"Emily. You have to talk to me, otherwise I can't understand." She said, calmly.

"The whole using your words technique doesn't work on me." I pulled my sleeve down and walked out of the bathroom.

Thanks for reading.

Sorry the chapter's so short. I hope you at least enjoyed it.