(Possibly nsfw?? It's not sex, just showering but ye. If you want to skip it, scroll down to where the next bolded text is!)
I step in the shower, feeling the hot water caress my skin, instantly calming my tense muscles. I sigh deeply, running my hands over my now warm skin to wet it more, then I grab the bar of soap. I allow it to glide effortlessly across my flesh, creating a small lather of bubbles. I allow the water to wash over my skin, pushing the soap off my body and down the drain. I then drench my hair, causing the water to slip down each individual strand and create mini waterfalls as they rain down towards the drain.
(Possible nsfw is done!)
After foaming my hair with shampoo, I gaze over to my left and see the razor. The one I haven't dared to touch for quite some time. The one I still won't dare to touch, even if my chest is tightening as I look at it for longer....I force my gaze away, sitting down on the shower floor, looking at my arms. My scars are fading, some are already gone. I'm happy, but also sad for some reason. The scars were part of me, showing the battle I overcame, and now...they're disappearing. I guess I can't linger on the past forever, even though my brain won't stop thinking of it. Mainly, Mariana.
Ever since I ran into her three weeks ago, I haven't been able to stop wondering what I should do. On the one hand, she looked really apologetic, so she really could mean it. If she did mean it, and I said I didn't forgive her, I'd seem like a complete asshole. On the other hand, she could very easily be lying and trying to manipulate me. I don't even know if I'm ready to forgive her, or if I ever could. She made me hurt and try to kill myself. I mean, I can't blame my depression on her, since I've had it my whole life. However, I do think that she caused a major downward spiral in it, which is when I was really hurting myself and attempting suicide.
I snap back to reality, realizing my hair is beginning to stiffen from the shampoo. I stand again, rinsing my hair, then I turn off the water before grabbing my towel and leaving the shower.
***
I step out of my bathroom with my wet hair hanging in my eyes, and a towel wrapped around my body, when I see Jerome sitting on my bed. I smile until I see what's in his hand.
My phone.
He holds it up, his face full of worry.
"Mitch, what are these?"
I can see, even from across the room, that my phone is open to a bunch of texts. Those texts. I sigh, walking over to my closet and grabbing some clothes.
"I'll explain after i get dressed, okay?"
A few minutes later, I'm fully dressed and cleaned up. I sit on my bed, looking at Jerome, who can't seem to pray his eyes away from my phone.
"Mitch..." His lips are barely moving, his eyes widen as he scrolls up and down, rereading them all. "Why didn't you tell me about these?"
"I figured if I ignored them they'd stop."
"They clearly haven't; this one is from today. And so is this one..."
"Why did you start snooping through my phone anyway?"
"I came in here to grab something and your phone was going absolutely crazy. I figured it was Twitter, but then I remembered you kept your notifications off. I peeked over, just to see who it was, and I saw this message." He points at the last one. That's when I notice his fingers are shaking. I take the phone from his hands, reading over the newest anonymous texts.
'Why don't you just die?'
'I'm sad that you're still alive. Seriously Mitch, reconsider life.'
