Give Me Your Heart And Your Hand And We Can Run

Chapter 8 Severed Hands

Hey guys, sorry I haven't updated in like 5ever. (yes I just said that.) Well the reason for that is I'm working on a new book, and this time its a love story between Vic and girl named Skye. that's all I'm giving out. I'm going to be releasing it with 3 chapters already written. Well enjoy chapter 8 :3

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***Tony's POV***

I roll over on my bed so I was facing my clock. It was around 12:15 AM, and I was still sitting in my room depressed, and unable to fall asleep. There was just too much on my mind.

I abruptly heard two people in Vic and Mike's bedroom.

Their voices were sort of muffled, but I could still make out some words.

"I knew it! I just- never be gay, -interest in me."  The mystery person wailed.

"You don't-that."

"sure I do!" 

Everything was really confusing, with hearing half sentences and all. But whoever was in there, someone was crying.

A surge of guilt shot through me for eavesdropping but, I continued to listen.

"SO HE IS GAY!!!!!" Someone screamed. It kind of sounded like Jaime

" shhhhh! but you're not upset- Tony?" The sound of my name being mentioned without my consent frustrated me. They were talking about me behind my back. The band was always really straight forward about stuff, and there was rarely ever gossip.   

I got up from my bed, and maneuvered my way over to the wall, and pressed my ear against it.

"No because I can win him over- good looks." 

Even though I had my head pressed to the wall, I still couldn't hear them that well. Whoever was talking was projecting their voice in the opposite direction of me.

But I was determined to know what they were talking about

"-doesn't like Tony anyways."

I felt my heart drop.

My stomach twisted and lurched.

I instantly knew the other person talking was Vic.

He doesn't like me. Vic hates me.

I crawled over to my bed, and flopped down on it.

"Honestly, why the hell do you think Vic would ever like you? You're a disgusting worthless piece of shit." I told myself

My demons were acting up again. Usually, I try to fight them by lying to myself, only this time they were right. But the thing is, they're always right.

I emotionlessly got up and walked to my dresser. I searched my underwear drawer until I found my "friends". The only "friends" that treat me right.

I rolled up my sleeves, revealing countless scars.

Finding a semi-clean spot on my left arm, I proceeded to press the cool metal to my tattered wrist.

The slit was soon accompanied by numerous dots of blood.

I trace over the carving in my arm several more times until the self inflicted wound was gushing with blood.

"One just isn't enough." I say flatly.

I feel my mouth twist into a sick smile as I watch the red liquid ooze from the various gashes on my wrist.

I continued to slash away at my skin until I felt completely numb.