The Deal

Chapter Three

          ••:Fall Asleep Before I Fall Apart:••

Warning: This chapter contains talk of abuse, self harm,and drug use.

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I pace nervously around my room, anxiously scratching the inside of my arm until it burns. I'm not sure at watch age I resorted to hurting myself to deal with my emotions when they got too big. I remember my mother holding cold rags on my arms a lot when I had scratched myself raw.

I was the kind of kid who'd smack myself in the head with a hairbrush while getting ready for school and my hair wasn't cooperating but I'd also dig my nails into my thighs or scratch myself to ease whatever was working me up. I suppose I've always been a bit self destructive, it's just only grown worse as I've gotten older. Scratching is the kindest thing I do to myself, self harm wise. I've grown a little to used to taking a blade to my skin whenever I get too upset or sometimes angry. It wasn't that hard to stay away from at first, I only did it here and there and I always felt guilty but it became harder and harder to refuse every time I was upset. I'd pull the blades from my razors or use scissors, I took the blade out of a razor knife once and used that. I'd feel shameful afterwards, after it was too late and the blood was dripping from my wrist, I'd feel insane like maybe I didn't need to get as worked up as I did, everything seemed less painful and extreme after. It would be so loud as I sobbed, whatever it was anger or pain consuming me, feeling like it would physically break out of my body and attack me but the second the blade hit my skin it would go silent and I'd feel like I just stepped off a twisted roller coaster and could breathe again.

But the more and more I did it the harder it became to refuse. I didn't know for a while that your brain releases chemicals to numb the physical pain and results in a 'happy feeling' which made sense as too why everything seemed less extreme after. I wouldn't say it's an addiction but I do find myself chasing the after feeling quite a bit and that alone sometimes leads me there. Although the physical pain is what releases whatever it is that's screaming inside. They just go hand in hand.

Seven hundred dollars..maybe in actuality it isn't that much but to me it seems impossible to come up with.
It seems even more impossible that it added up to that much. How did I let it go so far? The fact that only about forty perfect of it was sold is what scares me even more. The rest was for..personal use.
The pot doesn't make me feel as guilty and that was a big percentage of it..but I have no excuse for what the rest of it was. Cocaine and oxy. I've only used cocaine a few times and I'm at least proud to say that I only did one line out of what I bought from Rafe. The rest I sold for money for bills but the oxy is a different story.

I still have some left. Enough to get a good high. Maybe even enough for too much of a high.

I shake the thoughts away. Hearing my phone buzz I snatch it up off my bed hoping it's JJ or one of the pogues.
Instead my stomach turns and I swallow down the lump in my throat.
Kade.
Shit, with all of this going on I completely forgot that I was supposed to go over to his house today. I immediately feel nauseous and am suddenly too hot.
I quickly send him a text, coming up with an excuse as to why I can't make it before I silence my phone and toss it on my bed.