Hold Onto Me (Koli/Kellic) (EDITING)

Chapter 11

A/N: I made a cover for this book because the other one didn't seem to fit it. Tell me if you like it :)

MONDAY

Last night was absolutely horrible. After running out of my house, I found myself at the same park Oliver and I had been to a few weeks prior.

I stayed there for a while, not doing anything, not even thinking.

When I got back to my house it was dark, and my phone said it was ten o'clock.

Vic wasn't there anymore, and I ignored my mother's voice asking where I'd been.

I went straight to my bedroom, and fell asleep.

Now it's 8:00 in the morning, and I'm sitting here on the edge of my bed unable to do anything other than think.

I am a fucked up mess.

I'm such an idiot, such a fool.

I'm a horrible person.

I fucking hate myself.

My eyes are slowly drawn to the top drawer of my nightstand.

I don't have to think twice before I'm up on my feet, tugging the drawer open and snatching the shiny metal blade out.

I don't hesitate, don't pause, don't even think twice.

Slash, slash.

I do it until the thoughts go away, but there's a problem this time.

The feelings, the thoughts, they don't go away. The pain doesn't replace them with it's usual blissfulness.

They're still there. My escape, it's not working.

I stop.

There's over a dozen cuts across my wrist, all the way up to my elbow.

The sight, all bloody, and torn, scars reopened repeatedly, unable to heal, brings tears to my eyes.

I stare at the mess that is myself, and I want to throw up.

Who am I?

What have I become?

I don't like this. I don't like this person who I've become.

I used to be so happy. I used to enjoy life and love everything about it.

Up until around the age of eleven.

Everything went to shit. I started cutting, and my once prominent smile turned into a permanent frown.

I lost everything I was.

Now there's no joy in anything. Now I can barely find a reason to breathe.

I'm not always sad.

Back when Vic and I were close, I was happy a lot.

And Oliver.

He makes me so happy. He makes me smile, and laugh, and I have fun, so much fun when I'm with him.

But he doesn't take the pain away. No one does, and no one can.

I've been taking Oliver's antidepressants for a little while now. I know they're not magic, that they don't work instantly, but I wish they could.

I attempted to schedule an appointment with a psychiatrist but they couldn't get me in. Apparently, they're all booked up for about a month and a half.

I know I'll get in eventually.

But.

I'm scared.