Fckd Up// Ranboo Angst

16~-Please Don't touch My Arm, Thanks-~16

Fighting. Fighting. Fighting.

That's all I wake up to. Everyday. Every fucking day. The time when my mom is actually here and my dad isn't screaming at me.

Fighting. Fighting. Fighting.

On my day off of school all, I hear is fighting. It's not fucking fair.

I get out of my bed and don't even bother to do my hair today, not worth it. Instead, I go to the bathroom for a different reason.

I grab the blade and before I even think to stop blood is running down my arms dripping into the floor.

"Shit." I whisper "no no no no" I keep on repeating looking at both of my arms. "no no no no" I should've done it on my thighs. "You dumbass"

After what seemed like hours of screaming I hear glass falling and then screaming, it just stops. Welp, that's concerning.

I cover my arms up and walk down into the living room where my mom is crying picking up a photo.

"Hey mom," I say walking over and sitting next to her. "Hey baby, i- I'm so sorry," she says through tears.

I frown "It's fine mom," She hugs me. I let her melt into my arms and she starts crying more. I hug her back and rub her back. I hate seeing her like this, it's never been this bad where it makes her cry like this.

"Why don't you just break up with him" I suggest and she gives a sad laugh "I mean- If he- If he makes you feel like this he clearly isn't good"

"Bud, it's not that easy" she stops hugging me and wipes her face. my face lights up "I could call the police" I take out my phone "I could the police"

She gently takes my phone out of my hand and puts it on the ground next to me "It's not that easy..."

She begins to pick up the broken picture frame "You should go hang out with your friends"

"I want to hang out with you, I could teach you how to skateboard," I say. It was a good idea cause when I was younger and when she had time she would always tell me how my skateboarding tricks were cool.

She has me at a young age so her body wouldn't hurt if she tried like old people.

"I need to pick this up, then I have work"

"Right, work" I sigh and walk up the stairs. "Works more important than me, She only uses work to get away from you," I whisper very quietly to myself and close my door.

Here come the tears.

I take off my hoodie and throw it in the ground, the sleeves look darker cause of the blood, but you can't really tell because it's a black hoodie.

I walk back over to the bathroom and grab the blade again. I felt- I felt kind of odd like I didn't just want to cut my wrists how I usually do.

'get away'

That what I wrote on my wrist, it wasn't big or small medium size i would say. The letters started to look drippy, the blood started dripping making it look cool. I wanted to do it again and again and again.