𝑅𝑜𝑐𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑|| 𝑗.ℎ

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 6

Thank you for 1k :)<3

(normally wouldn't do this but a friendly reminder, this book will contain some messed up shit:). It could trigger some people especially this chapter so read at your own risk love. This goes for the rest of the book<3)

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"Emilia, it's turning 11. Don't you think we should stop?" He asks I shake my head no. I wanted to get this done so we didn't have to do this again. I didn't want to meet him again, it's something I wasn't looking forward too.

I grab the pencil that was sitting at my side and I start to work on the paragraphs we, I was writing. We weren't even halfway done with the assignment and it's already almost midnight, that wasn't stopping me though. If he would go, I would finish it on my own and we would be fine.

"Emilia!" I hear him sigh. I don't say anything, instead, I ignore him, this time not on purpose, just an on accident. I did that sometimes, I didn't mean to be a bitch all the time.

He snapped me out of a small little 5 seconds trance by snatching the pencil out of my hands, causing my head to snap in his direction. "Give me that back!" I huff, he just looks at me like I'm some crazy person. "No, we've been doing this", his hands start flying around in exaggeration, "for hours. Don't you think that's enough? We have school tomorrow and to be honest, you're pissing me off"

"if I'm pissing you off then why don't you leave?" I snap. I wasn't expecting that from him, but if we want to leave then so be it. I just look at him, he is moving his hands through his hair which is actually not tangled. From the looks of it, it was looked like he hasn't brushed it in weeks but I guess he did. His eyes are shut and he is now tugging on the roots of his hair.

"what's your problem?" I mumbled, his eyes shoot open and he just looked at me like I was some sort of dinner and he was the wild tiger. 

"what's my problem, what's my problem? really, it's fucking 11 pm and you are so full of yourself you won't let it go for a night. What's your problem? All you do is complain, this or that, or you complain about how you don't want me to be here. God, I see why no one likes you. Your room is a fucking mess, you act like your fucking alone in this world but the second someone tries to talk to you, you shoo them away. What the hell is your problem? Is it that you have no one, I wouldn't be fucking surprised" his voice is laced with anger but it comes out as a laugh. 

I watch him look at me, waiting for me to say something but nothing is coming out. My mouth opens and closes several times, each time I seem to say nothing. 

"Oh, now she's fucking crying, everyone. Did I hurt your feelings? poor Emilia" he says. I was crying? 

"Get the fuck out!" I shout, now I feel a tear fall down my face. Damit. "no." this boy doesn't want to fucking play these games with me today, does he? "I said get the fuck out of this house before I drag out myself " I shout once again. He just shakes his head and he stands up, grabbing his shoes and his phone and he storms up the stairs, slamming the main door behind him. What the hell was that?

Before I know it, everything in my room is destroyed/ All the canvas I had, the lamp, everything was a big heaping mess on the floor. Fuck, I tried to not let them get to me but I couldn't help it. I couldn't, I was fucking hurting. He was right, I push everyone away, I'm just a girl who is a fucking hot mess and can't seem to figure out what her deal is. Okay, it's not my fucking fault. It isn't and I'm fucking sorry about that, I'm sorry.

I walk into the bathroom, rummaging through the cabinets, I can't find what I'm looking for. Yes, I'm looking exactly what you think I'm looking for. I grab the razor from the bottom of the drawer and I remove the blade from it. I have gotten good at that when I was little. I pull up my sleeve, I changed into a hoodie earlier, when I realized half of my old scares are still showing. I use to cut when I was little, maybe 11, 12. I was young and I didn't give a fuck about my life, still don't. I take the blade and I bring it to my skin, making one cut. One cut turns into 2, 2 into 3, and 3 into 4. I just couldn't fucking stop. It was in a way refreshing. Yeah, it hurt but it was pain other than your own feelings and for that reason alone, that's why I do it, did it. I need to fucking stop. Before I could cause anymore gushing lines, I throw the blade into the trash can, turning on the sink and watching the blood run down the drain, along with the tears. 

I fucking hate life, and there's no point of continuing really, is there? Why have I waited so long?