The Difference Between Fear and Terror

Untitled Part 44

1 week later

Sang's POV

If it is possible, I have withdrawn more into myself. I honestly can't remember the last time I have spoken to anyone. They weren't falling for my "I'm perfectly fine" act, so I gave up. I can't remember the last time I slept. The circles under my eyes make me look like a raccoon.

I stare at the cup of soup on the nightstand. Nathan had delivered it a couple hours ago. I can't bring myself to eat it, so instead I pour it down the sink in the bathroom.

The matches are just in the medicine cabinet. With all of my other scars, it is hard to tell what is new and what is from before.

Everybody is acting weirder lately. They left me alone with Erika and Jessica, which I never thought they would do. They are all being distant, or maybe that is just me.

I twirl the matchbook in my fingers. There is just something about pain. It is an escape from the numb oblivion that my mind has become.

I light a cigarette after turning on the shower. The steam carries the stench out.

I take a drag on it, them push the end into the sensitive skin on my wrist. It bubbles up into a blister, identical to the fresh ones up and down my forearms.

I put it out. I don't really smoke, it is kinda disgusting, but it is easier than trying to straight up use a match.

It has been about two months since I was rescued. I still haven't bothered to unpack everything from my house. Gabriel hasn't taken me back out shopping since last time when I had a breakdown, so I am still wearing oversized sweatpants. It is odd, I expected him to get me some clothes already.

I lie down in the pitch black room and let the terror overtake me. I don't turn on my nightlight, I don't just flip the switch. There is no point, I won't get sleep with or without them.