I wake up bloodied on the cold floor my legs are cut up as well as my wrists. I look around confused not knowing what happened. I get up looking at the pool of blood that lies below me. I walk to the bathroom mirror to see my face bruised and my eye is swollen.
I find my bloody razors shoved into my backpack as well as my charcoal drawings ripped on the ground. I sob at the sight of my blood and ripped drawings.
I grab as much stuff as I can with my hands and run as fast as I can down the hallways and outside to get back to my house. I arrive at my house to see my dads truck in the driveways. This is his first time home in weeks. Normally my moms only home.
I see him walking into the house with his guns in his hands. (He keeps them under his bed) I walk into the house and hug him as hard as I can. He is scared because he turns around to see his disfigured son.
"What happened to you" he says to me loudly. "Nothing, nothing at all dad" I reply as the pain of telling him lies goes through me. He walks in a puts his pistol under the bed. (His last gun) He goes back outside. I sneak into his room and quickly grab his gun. I ran as fast into my room and hid it in my closet. He walks in and calls my name. I run to him. He hands me concert tickets (they are for The Sampsonites). If you didn't know it's my favorite band. I take them without hesitation. "Thank you, thank you, thank you" I say to him. He smiles and walks away.
I want to leave this world and I have a thought.
