My Musical Romance

Chapter 3

Hey guys!! Like the last chapter, this may be triggering. Mostly flashbacks. 

Basically, everything in italic is a flashback. If it’s in bold then it’s normal.

I stormed out of the building and turned a corner. Leaning against the wall, I pulled up my sleeve. I was greeted by 50 white scars.

It waslike everything was in slow motion as I lifted up the cold blade, which shone in the moon light.

“You do what?!” My friend, Izzy, asked.

“I cut myself.” I said simply. Izzy was the only person I could confide in; the only person I spoke to.

“Oh my god!! I didn’t know you were an attention seeker!” and with that, she stormed off.  My eyes started to water. I needed her; her support and understanding, her love and care.

I had just ruined my chances of getting better. Now it was just going to get worse.

I cut deeply into my skin, not caring when the blood dripped onto my clothes. I didn’t try and stop the bleeding; I just cut more and more up my arm.

“Really? What an attention seeking bitch!” I heard Yasmin whisper to Izzy, as I walked past, my school jumper‘s arms pulled down to my fingers.

“I know!”

 I could feel their stares and I hated it. I rubbed my arm slightly, feeling the sting from last night’s cuts. Tomorrow’s friend is today’s enemy.

My arm was now completely covered in blood, and I did nothing to help. I switched hands and started the process again, on the other arm.

“What a FREAK!”

“ATTENTION SEEKING BITCH!”

“NOBODY LOVES YOU! EVERYONE HATES YOU!”

“HONOURIS!” I heard someone faintly shriek at me. Black dots were forming in my vision, slowly clouding into darkness.

“It’s my friend! She’s cut all up her arm and is losing a fuck load of blood!” That was the last thing I heard, before I gladly sunk into darkness.

“My own daughter! A fucking emo… You know what you are?! Scum… You’re what’s wrong with the world. I don’t even think we’re related! I mean… I’m pretty and tall and thin, you’re ugly, small and fat! You can’t be my daughter, you’re a fucking loser! Just go kill yourself! NOBODY LIKES YOU!  EVERYONE HATES YOU!”

My own mother wanted me dead… I guess she always got what she wanted…

Alice’s POV

I watched as they took Honouris up into the ambulance, her arms wrapped in now blood soaked bandages.

I was asked to come with her, which I agreed to. I felt useless as I watched Honouris lay still, like she was in a deep sleep.

Her pulse rate had slowed to a dangerous level, meaning we had to be quick. We rushed to hospital.

As Honouris was finally lifted into a bed, her father and a little boy, who I assumed was her brother, came running in.

The little boy was in his PJs, and was rubbing his eyes. In one of his little grubby hands was a homemade looking teddy; it was cute.

I walked over to the little boy and his father and introduced myself. I was asked to take care of the little guy, who was called Max.

We went to the waiting room and Max laid on the couch, almost instantly falling asleep.

As he slept, I sat on the floor, thinking about what had happened. Honouris was someone I counted as a friend, if she agreed or not. I had let her kill herself. It was my fault.

I should’ve stopped her walking out like that. What was wrong with me?!

Making sure Max was sleeping, I crept out of the room. I slowly walked to Honouris’ room.

“How is she?” I asked, tears in my eyes.

“Stable.” Her father said, blankly. “Thank you for ringing 911.”

“She’s my friend. I can’t let her die.”

Honouris’ POV

I heard them talking. I tried getting up, but couldn’t do anything but open my eyes. Alice looked at me, mouth opening and gasping as she all but ran to my bed side.

“Honouris! I’m so glad you’re okay!” I smiled slightly, then blinked in surprise at the pain in my arms.

Wait… Pain… why the fuck am I alive?! I had failed. I couldn’t even kill myself properly! I was a failure in life and death.

Noticing my father, I looked away, tears in my eyes.

I saw all the pain, the hurt, the stress I had caused him, in his eyes.

Alice left, leaving me and my father alone.

“Why, Honouris?” He asked, frustrated.

“Because the world will be better when I’m dead. I’m a freak, Dad. I should be dead. Nobody loves me anyway. I’ve been reminded of that every day of my life. Even moving here didn’t help, I’m fucked up and everyone knows it!” The tears I had suppressed fell, flood like.

I had just opened up every thought I had had for years and years. Dad did nothing but hug me tightly.

“We’re going to get you help. You’ll get better, I promise.”

Within 3 months I had stopped self-harming.  It was horrible.

Every little comment that was said made me want to cut. Every single one.

I still felt hollow and constantly empty, but I had started dealing with it through writing songs and playing bass, which I was getting better at.

~Edited~