The Spanish Bad Ass

Chapter Seventy five: I know you love him

A/N: I still don't know why, but this chapter also has two theme songs. So once again... enjoy!

NOT PROOF READ... YET♡

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Someday I will not be chained to my bed,
Won't need distractions to get through the day.
One day all the pain will be a bleep,
I'll have the hardest time recalling it.
I'll be the king of misery management,
But surely not today.
One day the thought of him with hurt anymore,
One day I'll get up off the bathroom floor.
Oh, piece by piece I'll be restored,
I guess I hope I'm gonna be okay,
Because I'm not today.〰️ Alessia Cara.

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Trigger warning: This chapter showcases scenes of self-inflicted injuries and may not be suitable for all viewers, please if witnessing self harm is a trigger for you it is advisable that you don't read the chapter if not carry on please and thank you stay safe knowing that self-harm is never the answer in the eventuality that you're tempted to do so please seek professional help. You're never alone.❤

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As my eyes opened and lightly slowly flooded into them, I wished they would shut themselves back and never open again, I felt angry and exhausted all my bones felt heavier and I couldn't move so I just lay still.

I shut my eyes again willing myself to go back to sleep because I wasn't ready to deal with the world just yet, at this point nothing mattered to me I just wanted to escape all this pain, I wanted to go back to my state of unconsciousness where I didn't have to feel anything, where there was no pain which served as the closest I would ever come to finding genuine peace.

I couldn't.

I sighed as I stared at the rolling blades of the fan, praying the same prayer I had been praying for the past few weeks, that the stupid fan would lose a knot and fall crushing me instantly and giving me a quick death, my own chance at peace at last. I knew what shitty luck I had, it wouldn't happen.

I dragged myself off the bed, getting up on wobbly feet and sighing as I struggled to balance myself on my two left feet, I took my time in walking because I couldn't care about anything, I made an overly conscious effort to not look into the mirror so I wouldn't see the shit that was regarded as my face.

I held onto the railings as I walked down the stairs, feeling a burn in my chest with every step down I took. I stopped and placed my hand over my chest as I bent forward groaning and looking up at the ceiling tears pricking the side of my eyes.