Rest Your Love On Me {Tradley Story}

Chapter Twenty Four

 3rd June 

Bradley opened his heavy eyelids, still asleep. He straightened up and the room started to spin. Then the nausea came, making him run to the toilet where he purged his stomach in the bowl. He coughed before getting up and seeing his reflection in the mirror. He was disgusted, so he went out to go towards the living room. He recognized his best friend's apartment.

He had a backward movement when the sun's rays came into contact with his retina, causing him almost instantly a migraine. He saw no one in the common living room, nor the kitchen. He deduces that she was still sleeping so he went to slip into the bathroom and undressed. He looked at himself for a moment before looking away.

- You're a weak, he thought.

Each day he played a different instrument in the dark. Be the violin, cello or guitar. The bows and the pick were replaced by his blade and his body was the instrument.

The skin of his belly, his hips, his thighs and his wrists was covered, engraved, cracked, damaged by the cuts. Not yet having the courage to say goodbye to life, he languished death by injuring himself physically, alone. We had taken too much from him, he felt totally empty, totally detached from the world.

He slipped into the shower cubicle and picked up his blade. He spun it under the garish neon light. He felt like he was holding his life in his hands. He grasps it strongly and chooses to play the guitar today, attacking the skin of her belly and hips. He was in pain, but it was only a metallic caress that he appreciated.

He watched the vermilion liquid gently leave his body. His carnal envelope wept reddish tears, but his head would not console him. He was only a soul who wandered on Earth, with no specific goal.

- I am made for pain and suffering, he murmured.

He decided to put down his object of pain and turned on the water. He suppresses a cry when the transparent liquid touches his raw wounds. He refrained from crying. He was not going to shed tears for something he had inflicted on himself, was he?

After washing, Bradley returned to the bedroom he occupied and dressed in black skinny jeans and a heavy gray knit sweater. He blew before returning to the living room where he failed to do, one stops the heart.

Iris, James and Tristan were waiting for him in the living room, all of them seemed tense. The younger boy frowned, not understanding what was going on. In addition, his migraine intensified.

- Bradley please sit down, Iris asked softly. 

He did so without understanding. He noticed on the clock on the taupe wall that it was past noon. He expected to hear his boyfriend yelling at him again, but it didn't come.

- What is happening? he asked.
- We need to talk to you, because it's very serious.
- About what ?
- We three talked about it, James started, and we agree.
- What are you talking about here?
- We want you to go to rehab, said Tristan, settling down next to him.
- About what ? cried the brunette. I'm fine, I don't need to go!
- Bradley, breathed the young woman, settling on her left, since the death of Nathalie, you are not well. You drown your grief in alcohol, but it's not a solution. You know very well that you are everything to me and I worry a lot about you. You're putting your health at risk by swallowing all this alcohol, it's not good for you.
- I don't want to go there.
- Please listen to me. It's for your own good. I'm trying to watch over you, but I'm starting to be exhausted by all of this. You see what I'm talking about, she said, seeing her frown, I don't know if I'll still be able to watch over you if you continue. I find it hard to keep up and seeing you in this state exhausts me even more. So please accept.