The Kids Aren't Alright (Fall Out Boy fanfic)

Chapter One: Mollie

It was becoming extremely hard to keep my eyes open. 

They fell with every meriless step I took, but whenever they closed and I felt a glimce of sweet sleep, his face appeared, and I became much to scared too sleep. 

It was a strange sensation; like I was floating. My body had been so overcome with exhaustion, that I could've layed down anywhere, and been as comfy as ever. 

I must've looked a state; My black hair was a tangled, unbrushed mess on the top of my head, my skin paler than ever, deep purple bags had formed under my eyes, and I walked with a shuffle, my legs too tired to move anymore. 

I probably looked like a zombie.

Everytime I passed a shop or store, I glanced at myself in the reflected glass, and shuddered at my appearance. I looked worse than usual. 

The early December air was beyond bitter, and I mentally shouted praise at myself for wearing long sleeves, for more than one reason. 

The city was alive. People swarmed around me, their chatter filling me up entirely. The sky burned with deep oranges and bright pinks, signalling that night was coming... and that I'd be yet another day without sleep or food or water. 

I was surpried that I hadn't dropped down dead already. 

It would probably be for the best anyway. I mean, nobody wanted me around, so who would it matter to? If I jumped in front of a train, who would care? Nobody. It would only inconvienience whatever poor bastard had to scrape me from the tracks. 

I tried to shake the thought of as I brushed past strangers, their body warmth rubbing off on me for a split second. Now was certainly not the time for thinking negatively. 

My heart set into the same panic it did every night as the sun hid it'self behind buildings for the night. What if he found me? What if he made me go back? There's no way I'd be able to get out of that one with just a few bruises. No, if he had found me then, I'd be dead. 

So, I carried on walking. I walked and walked for what seemed like an eternity, until the sun had burst, and darkness was left in it's place. From there in the city of Chicago, you couldn't see the stars, but still I found myself taking glances up at the sky for reasurrance. 

The people began to hurry home to their homes and families for dinner, and my tummy rumbled as it remembered that it would be having none. I let out a little whine. 

My fingers were completely numb, and everything felt weak, I felt like I was going to throw up, which normally, I wouldn't object to, but the idea of throwing up nothing but stomach bile and blood didn't seem so appealing to me then. 

The glow of coffee shops filled the dark street, and I longed to be in the warmth. I just wanted to feel safe, and warm, and most of all I wanted to sleep. My body craved sleep. I hadn't slept in three days, and I hadn't eaten or drank anything for two. My body was beginning to give up on me, much like everybody else had. My mind was out of control as I stumbled through the city, and it felt content to torture me with the truth.

It had been a bad day. The thoughts were back, and worse than ever. The complete and utter feeling of dread and dispair filled my entire form. I was simply exhausted. 

As I sat slumped on the couch, I glanced down at the new red slashes on my wrist, cringing as I did so. They were hideous, and I instantly regretted everything. I had been doing so well without it, but there I was, looking down at the tears in my flesh, contemplating suicide. 

I couldn't deny the skip of joy in my heart when I heard the front door open. He was home. At last. I pulled the sleeves down on my jumper, and stood up, waiting for the glorious man to pull me into his arms, and tell me that no matter what I did, he still loved me, and belived that I was perfect.