Chapter Four

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I woke up at four in the morning. Believe it or not, it was later than usual. Normally, I'd go to bed at twelve and wake up at three. I don't even know how I was surviving. There are nights when I can't get a blink of sleep. There are others when I can fortunately catch a few hours. But never more than four. There's always a feeling of dread that envelopes my heart in the middle of the night.

This has to end. This needs to end.

I felt a shiver run down my spine. It felt like the world had faded away and the only thing I could feel was my heart beating. The only thing I could hear was my heart beating. I despised that sound.

I remember telling my mom about this when I lived with my parents, back in Sacramento. She'd always tell me to take a nap. My parents never understood that some people are so emotionally drained that sleep doesn't do anything. You wake up tired. It doesn't go away.

After my brother, our link snapped. It was like living in the same house, and yet in two different worlds.

My eyes darted towards my drawer. Shit. Don't do it. Don't do it. Just don't. How hard can it be?

Very.

I sighed and jumped out of my bed, got a hold of one of the blades and slit my wrist. Blood rushed out of my body as if it was a part of a river waiting to flow which was once restricted by a dam. I had done this so many times that I had mastered the art of cutting just deep enough—deep enough to hurt, but not enough to kill me. I felt calmer. Maybe the physical pain helped me forget about the emotional one. But it wasn't enough.

I still felt like I was choking on the air in my room. I put on a sweat suit. Black, obviously. I looked at myself in the mirror. Why do I always look like I'm about to mug someone? Not that I care.

After cleaning the mess that I had made, I tip-toed out of my room. Dylan was asleep on the couch. Oh, how this evil little monster looked like an innocent infant while he was sleeping. One of the reasons I let him live in the apartment was his sarcasm and sense of humour. As a person whose life was not even worth living, good humour was the only thing that kept me going.

I stepped out of the apartment and locked the door behind me. I started walking. I didn't know where I was going. I guess I was headed towards nowhere-land. I had earphones in my ears and I smiled as I swayed to 'Crimson and Clover'.

I'd be the happiest depressed person you could ever meet.

I had made peace with the fact that this is what my life was supposed to look like. I wasn't exactly satisfied with how things were, it all felt like a burden. It's just that I had gotten used to carrying this burden. But make no mistake. Just because I carry it well, doesn't mean it ain't heavy.

The city was quiet. It was peaceful. I somehow ended up on the Rockaway Beach. I had been here before, just not during these hours. I didn't realise how beautiful it could be. I took off my shoes and let my feet sink into the cold sand. The blood from my wrist had stopped dripping. It was almost half past six. The sun was about to rise. The sky was shades of carnation pink and amber near the horizon; lilac and sapphire away from it. I wondered if I'd like my life if it were to be so colourful.

The smile on my face turned upside down when I realised that I had to head back and get ready for college. I really wanted to avoid people like Natalie and Ethan today.

I walked back. When I entered the apartment, Dylan was already up.

'I was looking for you. You don't ever pick up your phone, do you?' he said, his voice still groggy.

I took my phone out of my pocket and realised that I had three missed calls from Dylan.

'I just went for a stroll. My phone was on "Silent", sorry.' I said as I walked towards my room.

'You went on a stroll at six in the morning? Someone's really lonely, huh?' he smirked.

'Four, actually.' I mumbled.

He didn't catch it.

'Anyway, I'll get the breakfast ready.'

What would I do if I hadn't found this evil angel? I'd practically starve to death. Not a very peaceful way of dying, by the way. All I could make is cereal, which is putting the cereal and the milk in a bowl. So talented.

I rushed through my morning routine. I made sure I wore long sleeves. After putting my hair in a ponytail, I walked up to the table. I gorged myself on the omelette. Most of the times I don't even know what I'm eating. I'm too distracted to know that.

After breakfast, I grabbed my bag, headed out of the apartment, walked to the college—you know the drill. I was hoping that today went better than yesterday, less eventful. I wasn't looking forward to meeting new people or getting to know anyone. I wasn't looking for friends. The more people you have in your life, the more chances they get to disappoint you, hurt you, break you. And I was already broken. I wanted to be fixed.

Could that ever happen? I smiled at the thought.

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