Alive//H.S

Before I Close My Eyes

Before I lay me down to sleep
I pray the lord my soul to keep
I hope it's not to late for me, woah

(I tried to write a flashback of Ian and Lilas interactions....but I just can't do that. It makes me sick to think about how painful that can be for people to go through and I don't even want to bring more light to the subject. So I did my best)

Lila Rose

"Ian please stop I can't-" I choke on air as his hand grasps tighter around my neck every single time he gets deeper.

"You are a disgusting piece of shit, you whore. You deserve this," he yells into my ears as I sob, my eyes going fuzzy as the need for oxygen pushes at my lungs.

"Ian!"

I wake up screaming, my body shaking as tears crawl out of my eyes. I can't do this anymore. I can't do this anymore. I want it to all go away. I feel my stomach contract and heave as I try and take deep breaths, nothing soothing the hyper burn in my lungs. Breathe, Lila. Breathe.

I let out a chocked sob into my hands, my knees against my chest as I cry out everything I could from the nightmare, nothing feeling better.

"Fuck," I spit as I thread my hands through my sweat drenched hair, letting out a loud cry of pain as I stand up, my clothes drenched in sweat.

Why was this still happening? Why won't he just leave me alone?

It had been almost four fucking months and still this mother fucker is getting to my brain, and it's becoming more exhausting than actually being with him. The worst part is, Ian is missing. He's not in jail. He's not at the old house we owned. He's out in the world possibly doing this to other people.

My eyes are blurred from tears as I walk downstairs toward the kitchen, shakily grabbing a cup and placing it on the counter as I fill it with water, ignoring the spilling from my trembling hands completely as I gulp it down, nothing helping the images that flash through my eyes.

"You asked for this! You made me this way! Fuck you," Ian crooks as I gasp for air on the ground, my stomach cut and bruised from his kicks.

He walks towards me again, holding his fist up in the air as he stares down at me.

"I'm not done with you yet, you whore," he growls as his fist connects to my collar bone, the feeling shattering throughout my body.

I sprint towards the bathroom as the water come back up from my throat, heaving over the toilet and collapsing next to it as I sob out a desperate cry. I want my dad. I want my dad. I miss him so much.

I lay on the cold tile, staring up at the ceiling as tears of frustration and exhaustion fall down my eyes and down my neck, my hands grasping my shorts for dear life at the urge to harm again.

This was my fault. I had caused this for him. I had made Ian mad. I did this to myself. I don't deserve to be here anymore.

Happiness isn't an option anymore.

I let out a sigh as I feel that familiar sting as lines appear on my legs, the feeling all too familiar as I watch my thighs carefully, marking myself for the umpteenth time this year. The feelings not euphoric but settling as I throw the object across the room and into the trash can, letting out an exhausted sigh as I peel myself from the floor.

I glance at the time as I pass the kitchen, seeing it to only be three in the morning, only an hour of sleep under my belt as I walk shakily back up the stairs in my loft, still crying as the realization of regret holds me hostage in my head.

I hate giving into that urge, and I hate the aftermath of it. Sore legs and a sore heart core as I crawl back into the now cold bed, staring at the wall in front of me as my mind spins.There's no way I'm going to be able to sleep now.

"Get back here! Don't runaway from me!" Ian yells above the sound of the football game on Tv as I sprint up the stairs of our house, feeling his hands try and grab at my hips, that gross laugh leaving his throat.

"You think you can get away from me?" He spits as I cry out in anger, his hands grasping the back of my shirt and pulling me to his chest, his hands going up my shirt.

I squeeze my eyes shut as another memory flashed through my eyesight, the feeling making me claws at my skin in pain at the feeling of his hands. They won't go away. And I don't know how to make them go away.

I turn on my tv, not paying attention to anything on the screen as my mind is clouded with regret and pain. I let my mind drift to the day I had been having before this, how accomplished it felt to be able to go out for lunch with Harry and not be afraid of saying something stupid or annoying him any more than I already am. It felt good to talk to him about music and life and be disconnected from the world of pain I was living in.

And now I'm here, alone in my loft apartment with nothing but a pillow to comfort myself, and thinking if the man I wish I could forget about.

I almost thought of calling Harry for a split second, having him come here and make me forget about my urges and stop me from doing something I regret. But I couldn't do that to him. He's already been burdened by me enough.

I don't want to break him too.

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Sorry this was so sad and horribly written.
I love you guys!!!

Sunny