𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 - 𝙜𝙚𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙪𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨

speechless

"what the fuck dylan where the fuck have you been" george says pulling me into a hug.

i stay silent as i bury my head into his chest and grip his shirt with my fingertips.

i still have my gloves on and it leaves blood on his shirt. alex notices and i see worry sink into his face.

"dyl are you hurt?" alex says, pointing to the blood on george's shirt.

i still stay silent, i can't speak. i literally couldn't even if i wanted to.

"shit, come on let's get you home" george says as he picks me up in his arms and holds me close to his chest.

alex unlocks the apartment door and george carries me in and puts me down gently on the sofa. i hold my head in my hands, smudging tyler's blood over my forehead.

"where did you go? what happened are you okay?" george asks in a state of panic. alex comes and sits on the sofa too. i can tell they're both worried.

they actually care about me.

i don't know where to start. how do you even begin to explain you just murdered your abusive ex boyfriend just because he said you wouldn't do it.

i stand up and head to the kitchen, leaving a very confused george and alex still on the sofa. they turn around and watch me take off the gloves, cut them into little pieces and put them in the bin.

"dyl please say something?" george pleads.

rubbing my eyes, i stand behind the sofa and say the only thing i can at the moment.

"we don't have to worry about tyler anymore" i say quietly, i don't think i can speak any louder.

i stand up and head to the bathroom. i have nothing else to say. i lock the door. i think it will be easier to shut everyone out for now and figure out what i'm going to do. plus i need a shower.

i need to do something to take my mind off things. right let me just post on instagram because that will make everything so much better won't it.

th0tflav0ur3djuulp0d

th0tflav0ur3djuulp0d: v confused rn. give me something deep to think about.

user1: we have to pretend to be asleep to get to sleep

user2: you live just to die in the end
~th0tflav0ur3djuulp0d: woah really!!!! id have never of guessed🙀🙀🙀

user3: think about how many times you've dreamed about someone really random, people have probably had dreams about you too

user4: where are you from bc you don't seem american
~user5: how can you even tell from pictures and captions LMAO

wait the dream one i've never thought about that. that's kinda creepy ew.

i need to talk about what happened. but i can't get my words out. maybe i should write about it.

i open my notes app and start typing.

everyone expects something from me
i can't please them all
i don't want to let anyone down
but i can't please everyone

is it selfish to hurt myself?
because i'm only thinking about myself and not how it might hurt others too
i don't think about how it's not just me i'm hurting
all i care about is the pain

is it weird to think the thoughts i do
they're sick twisted and horrible
i don't mean them
but if i'm thinking them i must right?

there must be a little bit of truth in them
i can convince myself deep down i'd never wish that on anyone
but my thoughts have proved me wrong
and my actions too

i always think about killing myself
sometimes i think what people feel after i do isn't my problem
but that's selfish right?
i was taught better than that

it's got to the point where i don't know if there's something wrong with me
like seriously
i cant tell if everyone deals with this or i'm just suppressing my emotions

i cant tell whether he made me this way
or whether i'm overreacting
i don't know if i just can't let go
or whether he actually messed me up

he taught me how to cope
but i chose to listen
and i was so fucking gullible
to see that he was the one making me sad as fuck

he made me believe he made me happy
when he made me sad as shit
then happy again
and i fell for everything

maybe this is all gonna be bullshit
but i think feelings are important
and the right things have to be said to young children
they could hurt them for a lot longer than you think

why do i want bad things to happen to me
how can i expect people to respect me when i can't even respect myself
or see my own worth

but as long as no one knows right?
they don't have to find out what you're doing to yourself
fuck it isn't even that bad
but i don't want to hurt anyone like i hurt myself

everyone expects something from me
there's only so much i can take to be honest
i think honesty is the key here
and the first step is being honest with yourself

i stop typing. it feels a lot better to get things off my chest. even if i'm just typing it.

by the time i've finished typing i'm in a ball on the bathroom floor. i don't even know if anyone has knocked or anything. i look at the time, 3:23am. i need a cigarette.

grabbing the box and my lighter, i quietly opened the door and snuck out to the balcony. i assume alex and george are in bed. i feel really bad for not talking to them but i didn't know what to say. once again i remove my necklace and clutch it in the palm of my hand, protecting my brother. i wonder what he would say to me right now? would he be mad? disapointed? stressed the fuck out like i am? who knows man.

lighting my cigarette, i take in the cold breeze and inhale the smoke. it warms my chest and instantly calms me down. i exhale, watching the smoke disintegrate into the starry sky. everything is okay. it's all good.

i run my fingers through my hair and find blood in it. dry fucking crusty blood. i stop for a second while the realisation of what i've actually done sinks in. i become completely consumed in intrusive thoughts.

until i hear the door open behind me.