warning, story contains:
//tw: blood, self harm, self deprecating thoughts, blades, vomiting, nightmares.
stay safe kiddos! :))
10:00 PM, July 8, 2017.
It was night time. The others would be either getting ready for bed or asleep.
He wouldn't be getting sleep anytime soon.
It was going to be a long night for him.
________
3:48 AM, July 9, 2017.
it was almost 4. He couldn't sleep, he can't sleep.
The nightmares would just plague his mind anyways. The nightmares. It was always the others. He would always dream about them.
They were always screaming.
Crying.
Shouting.
Angry.
"Worthless."
"Burden."
"Pathetic."
"Terrible."
"Useless."
WorthlessworthlESSWORTHLESSWORTHLE-
In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8.
calm down. Breathe.
---------
6:32 AM, July 9, 2017.
The others are already up at this hour. He didn't get a blink of sleep last night. He was tired, way too tired
He wouldn't be getting up in an hour or two.
He'll just lay down for now.
---------
12:14 PM, July 9, 2017.
Someone was knocking on his door, saying something about eating lunch, or something. He ignored the person on his door, he didn't need to eat. They didn't need food to survive, they're just a figment of imagination, they aren't real.
After a few more knocking, the person, he couldn't really tell who, gave up. He could hear the foot steps slowly fade,
He was tired.
A head ache was forming, he was too tired.
----------
4:19 PM, July 9, 2017.
This time nobody knocked on his door. That was... good, or at least that's what he kept telling himself.
Really, who cares anymore? He certainly didn't.
God, his head hurt. He wanted to sleep, but the nightmares would just come back.
----------
6:53 PM, July 9, 2017.
He woke up on a cold sweat. It was dark.
He couldn't see anything
The shadows, he swore they were moving towards him.
He accidentally fell asleep, he didn't mean to. Fuck, his head was throbbing, it felt like it was gonna pound out of his skull.
He needed to go to the bathroom. When he stood up, he suddenly felt a rush of sickness over wash him. He leaned on the wall for support. He covered his mouth, he needed to go to the bathroom fast.
He sprinted to the bathroom, the room was spinning, his head was throbbing.
He got inside the bathroom, flicking the lights on, the sudden light making his head hurt more. He leaned down on the toilet, and puked, at least tried to. He heaved and heaved, nothing but bile came out, it made sense because he hasn't ate anything the past few hours. He didn't stop until he let everything out. He was panting and a few tears escaped. His head ache doubled.
God he felt like shit. Everything hurt. His head was spinning, his muscles were sore and everything was loud, why was everything so loud? he can hear screams, people were screaming, the voices, they were so familiar, his skin was buzzing, stop, it hurt.
Why won't it stop?
make it stop make it stopmakeitstOPMAKEITSTOP-
The box. He turned his head to look at the box under the sink.
He picked the box up with shaky hands, staring at it.
He promised he would stop... but promises were meant to be broken, unfortunately.
He opened the the box, staring at what it contains. He took a shaky breath. He reached inside and pulled out a blade. He inspected the blade in his hand.
The metal shone slightly in the dimly lit bathroom.
It helps him.
He rested the blade on his wrist.
It made him feel alive.
He slid the blade.
It was addicting.
Blood dribbled down his arm onto the floor, a contrast to the white tiles.
He cut once more, and cut and cut and another, covering his older cut with new ones, until both his wrist were littered with cuts god knows how many.
But it wasn't enough.
He took of his jeans. His legs were pale and had scars all over them, normally he'd feel sick looking at them, but right now, he needed to cut.
He cut and cut, again and again and again. There was blood everywhere, on his hands, on his legs, on the floor, it was beautiful.
---------
8:29 PM, July 9, 2017
He woke up on the bathroom floor. His body felt weak and limp.
He sat up and looked around, there was blood everywhere. Shit he must've passed out.
He stood up, sighing at the mess he made. He cleaned up the blood on the floor, also on his arms and legs.
After changing clothes and treating his wounds, he went to bed.
---------
10:00 PM, July 8, 2017.
It was night time. The others would be either getting ready for bed or asleep.
He wouldn't be getting sleep anytime soon.
It was going to be a long night for him.
