eyeless - steddie✩

𝟏𝟖. 𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃.

!!TW VERY VERY VERY BIG DISCLAIMER!! This chapter HEAVILY mentions suicide and insanity spiraling. please do not read if you are struggling. You matter.
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I made it back home after the ER. Alone. Steve stayed with me for a while and I wanted to be alone. Just alone. Maybe that wasn't the safest option, but, I needed to be alone. Everything hurt. I couldn't feel anything but felt everything all at once, and it gutted me. I don't think there's much for me to do, since everything ached. I sat up on the couch and turned on the TV, just watching whatever was on. Some beach movie. I don't know. I sat through the whole thing, barely understanding the plot.

The guy falls for the girl and they end up together at the end of the movie, what's fucking new? Nothing. Nothing was. Nothing was ever new. The bright colors painted my eyes like a canvas and I felt consumed by the static, like it was my only escape.

Steve left to leave me alone but said he'd be back later to check on me and bring food. He said he'd bring movies and we'd hug and talk. I wasn't up for talking. I just wanted to get away.

I sighed and felt myself doze off. The darkness of my eyelids protected my knowledge of the outside world, and I liked it that way. I always think what it would be like to be blind, it would suck. I think. Not being able to see for your entire life would drive me insane, but I guess it comes with old age. Would I be blind once I'm 80? Maybe 90. That's gonna suck. I chuckled fo myself. I laid down on the couch and drifted off into my own world where everything was okay.
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I woke up to static TV and no one in the house but me, I checked the clock. 9pm. I signed. I slept for 4 hours. He wasn't back. Did he even plan on returning? Maybe not, after all I said to him. How could he forgive me, after I begged for him? That was fucking pathetic. The burning sensation treated through my cheeks like fire and all I could do was just cry again. How many fucking times have I cried today? Jesus.

I wonder how that girl is doing, the girl that called an ambulance for me. How had she helped me and not Steve? Bullshit he couldn't get to me. Why didn't he just push through? Did he even try? Did he watch me get the shit beat out of me? Did he watch?

I looked to my left and noticed the gauze of the wound where Jason carved something into my arm. What was it? I didn't get to look at it good enough. I put my hand over it, just feeling it. It hurt like shit but I wanted to bawl knowing this scar would be with me forever. it would never disappear, it was a part of me now. I didn't wang it to be. I didn't want to be carved into with a knife. I can't handle it. I'd get judged every day of my life and I couldn't wear t-shirts because it would show. The word "fag" or "freak" or who knows would show at all times to the world. I'm not a self-conscious person but man, this could ruin my life. And it will. I sniffled at my miserableness. There was nothing I could anymore. I had nothing to do or live for. Steve clearly didn't give much of a shit about me anymore and my life I'd falling apart before my eyes. Wayne would get over it and my parents don't even fucking know if I'm alive or dead, so they wouldn't care.

Wayne would lose his mind, though. He'd never want to come back to this trailer again, ever. I don't think he could stand even looking at it. I cried at my own fictional thoughts and curled up into a ball, although it hurt. I held my knees to my chest and I just let it out. I couldn't hold it in or else I'd explode. My face was all wet and salty it tasted disgusting. Snot dropped from my nose as I weeped for hours. Just hours of weeping is all I did. I cried in my room, on the couch. In the bathroom. In the kitchen, hell, even the floor. I crawled onto the floor into a ball and held myself even tighter, rocking. My breathing was shaky and my body trembled at my own thoughts and emotions.

What was I supposed to do? Not cry?

I dozed off every now and then from the exhaustion of everything. I'd been beat up and I've been nonstop crying. I slept so long and yet he still never came. The door stayed closed and never opened. Sometimes I begged for the him to be there and fix everything wrong, but he never did. He wasn't here. It was 10pm. I started to panic. I paced around the living room, shaking my hand profusely and breathing out my mouth. Mumbling to myself. Sniffling and crying. I'm such a fucking crybaby, Jesus. I'll faint if I keep bawling.

Sobs left my mouth every now and then.

Then I felt myself go insane. I would think to myself and laugh. I prayed. I prayed for Steve to barge in for minutes at a time. I'm not even religious at all but I guess I was praying to the universe. Had it heard me? Please. It has to. It has to.

I got angry. I was fuming. I tossed shit around and broke glass and turned the coffee table upside down and emptied cabinets. I found beer in the fridge and drank 3 of them in 2 hours. It was 12pm. He wasn't coming. I had to face it.

I stumbled to my room, messily searching for my stash. I found two blunts and some shrooms. I smashed the beer against my bedroom wall, another tear. I lit the blunt almost dropping the lighter, then throwing it to the side. Every time I smoked, it was a big hit. Why not enjoy myself? Hm? Get drunk?

Destroy myself.

I inhaled the smoke and let the buzz overtake my body, hoping it'd numb everything. It did, for a little while. I lit the other blunt and felt myself get higher and higher. The world seemed to warp into different shapes, which tripped me the fuck out. I giggled to myself every hit I'd take and let the blunt out in the carpet, making a burn hole. I scrambled for the shrooms, becoming anxious. Panic started to settle into my body. What if I get stuck like this forever? But i wont. But what if? What if I hallucinate Steve? Is Steve out with Robin, forgetting about me? Is he fucking some chick from an alleyway? Is he partying? Has he forgotten. I started to cry and then all of a sudden, I lost my ability to speak. I couldn't walk and I couldn't move. It was too warped. People appeared in the corners of my room and they danced like leaves. I put the shrooms down and hide in a corner, covering my eyes and curling up. I wailed like a child and begged it to be over. For it to end.

Why am I like this? Always fucking screwing up. After a while, it had gotten better but I still couldn't make out what I was looking at 100% of the time. All I could do was worry and cry. I gripped my curly hair and screamed. "Make it stop" I begged. It didn't. Then, it came to me.

I rushed into Wayne's room, grabbing his gun.
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A/N: please read. This story was made for writing purposes and I advise you DO NOT read this if you are in a bad place and I want to let those know who struggle with this and all who are reading is that you are LOVED. No matter what situation you are in, you FUCKING MATTER. You make differences in people's lives and you have a journey to take on and you are apart of other people's journeys. You are the light of your life and the light of someone's, whether that be a person or a pet. Take care of yourself and know that you are not unlovable and you are a special soul and meaningful soul to walk this Earth, you are a light. You radiant life, keep that light. You matter.

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