Clean (Lashton)

V

The boys played a great show that night.

I didn't.

I screwed up, as usual.

I can't even do anything as simple as playing the drums right.

Why am I such a fuck up?

I quickly make a keek, throwing on my fake smile and giggles to say hi to the fans before going into the bathroom, and finding my blade.

I strip off all of my clothes and look at myself in the mirror.

My fat, bulging stomach.

My hideous scars that litter my wrists, thighs, hips, stomach, and pretty much any other non noticeable place.

My horrible curls.

My non existent abs.

I take my blade and line it up on my hip before pressing down deeply, blood instantly gushing from the wound, giving me an instant feel of relief.

Multiple cuts and another shower later, I am pulling myself into black sweatpants and an old t shirt and sweatshirt overtop.

I exit the bathroom and head over to the main part of the bus where the other boys are.

"Hey." I say with a fake smile.

"Hi, Ash. Want some pizza?" Michael asks, pushing a box of pizza toward me.

As my usual routine of only eating a small dinner, I grab only one slice of plain pizza and eat it slowly, mentally grimacing at all of the grease and fat I'm putting into my terrible body.

"Alright I'm going to bed. I'm exhausted. See you in the morning." I say, getting up and heading to the bunks.

"Night, mate." Luke says, eyes still fixated to the screen where he is playing FIFA with Calum and Michael.

Calum and Michael say nothing.

I lay down in my bunk and drift off into a nightmare filled sleep as usual with the recurring dream of the shooting that took away the lives of so many of my loved ones.

A/N- sorry for the short chapter.

Also, happy 2015.

Bye guys.

-A