I recommend listening to sparks fly by Taylor Swift or something depressing like that :) sorry...
"No... No... No!!!! Nooo!!!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. My breathing started to increase in speed and my body started to panic and freak out.
I reached up and grabbed my hair forcefully, tugging and messing it around.
In frustration I paced around the room, stomping around and making a fuss.
"NOOO!!!" Everything hit me again and the tears that were held back (unlike my screams) decided to surprisingly flood over my cheeks. I bad had enough. A rush of adrenaline, panic and anger took over my body and I uncontrollably broke loose.
I swept my arms along the mantle piece, pushing everything that was sitting there off. I grabbed the curtains fiercly and yanked them down, accidentally pulling the pole down only to trap me underneath it on the floor.
"UuRGHHH!" I groaned in pain and irritation, struggling under the advantage of the metal curtain holder but managing to scramble my way out.
I picked myself up and continued to sob and weep as I jumped on the couch and frantically bounced up and down as an energy-relieving stratergy.
As I continued to jump I picked up the cushions and pillows: throwing them angrily at the mirror, the photo of Scott and I, the fireplace. I didn't care. I didn't care about anything or ANYone at that moment.
I sunk to my knees on the floor and looked up, throwing my arms back.
"YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T LEAVE ME!" I yelled at the top of my lungs, not caring about loosing my voice.
"...AND YET YOU FUCKED AROUND WITH ME AND THEN LEFT ME BY MY FUCKING SELF!"
I sobbed more and put my head in my hands.
"'I wanted time to think', you said. WE JUST MADE LOVE AND THAT'S ALL YOU CAN FUCKING WRITE ON A STICKY NOTE..." I reminded him, whereever he was, like a manic disturbed person. LITERALLY. With those creepy smile and wide eyes, and the kinda shaky sobs still racking from my body.
I started to calm down and stood up in a crying mess. I plodded tearily to the bedroom again and looked at the messed up covers. The stains on the bed. The used condom carelessly lying on the floor. And finally the sticky note on the bedside.
I walked slowly over to it and picked it up, trying to shove it in a pocket. ....but it didn't work. Because I was naked. I huffed in annoyance and made my way to the kitchen, much MUCH calmer now. I poured myself a cup of coffee and dried my eyes with my palms like a toddler.
I took a large slurp of the caffeine and shivered at the thrill of hot liquid through my body. My eyes started to open more as the coffee bagan to mask my tiredness, but I knew I would have to pay that back somehow. Which was bad for me. But guess who didn't give a fuck? Yeah, you guessed it. Me.
Once at the fireplace, I lit a fire and sat down in front of it, looking into the flaming orange and yellow display of fire and energy. I wanted to be like that. Free, and flowy, not isolated but kept on one track in my life. Not these stupid pointless hookups and mistakes, like Scott was. Except Scott was my boyfriend for a month and he left me.
I leaned forward and put the piece of paper in the flames, watchinf the heat engulf it and burn it to a crisp.
It looked nice, and warm, what was the harm in trying it out?
Scott didn't love me anyway... Why not hurt myself? Yeah, I prevented cutting since I met Scott because he helped me get over it.
But burning...? Seemed fine to me. I slowly neared my hand to the flickers and gulped nervously. I closed my tired eyes, in fact I clenched them tight, and put my hand in. I didn't feel anything. It just tingled and felt hot, but nothing. Actually it was rather nice.
Suddenly it started to hurt and I opened one eye to check what happened.
I shot my hand back to myself when I saw what had happened with a defening scream.
It was black and the tips of my fingers were sort of melted.
I screamed more and immediately regretted the choice of burning myself. Tears of pain began to pour from my eyes as I sprinted as fast as my legs could carry me to the bathroom.
I quickly turned the cold water on and out it under, letting my hand cool down.
Bad mistake- it made it worse.
Running to my phone I went to ny contacts and tried to find the police but my hand slipped and I accidentally pressed on Scott's number.
I groaned in frustration but let it diall for a while until he picked up.
"Mitch, I don't want to talk." He sniffed. Was he crying?
"Please!! Please come Scott... I... I'm hurt... Please...." I begged desperately with muffled tears and uneasy breaths.
I heard him hang up and I screamed in anger once more. He didn't care about me, he didn't want to help me.
I might as well be dead.
~*~*~*~
"Mitch?! Mitch!!!" I heard a quiet scream but ignored it under the water.
"Mi- HOLY SHIT!" He gasped after what I thought to be the door slamming open with a piercing thud.
But it was too late, because as he sank to his knees and began to sob, and held my burnt hand in his, I felt everything get black.
Have you noticed this inehsot get worse by the end... Yeah that's because I had coffee yesterday (first half) but not today. My apologies for the bad writing and the sadness.
IDEFK OK?! :( :) bye love y'all
