All Alone

Don't Go I Can't Do This On My Own

|| TRIGGERING SCENE ||

Devin’s POV:

Today was another terrible day in hell. I feel like I would honestly enjoy hell a lot more than I do everyday life, it just seems simpler than everyday I live up here. Tomorrow is the mating ceremony. Knowing me, I probably wont ever find my mate and will have to live out my life alone, the way it should be.

“Ghost?” I look up from my salad and am meet by the brown eyes of Ashley.

“Are you okay dude?” I shake my head yes and look at my food. The pieces of lettuce now turn into wriggling worms and the pieces of chicken turn into rotting flesh. The tomatoes turn into eyeballs and make me shoot out of my seat feeling the sick rising in my throat.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I finally shake my head no and mutter something incoherent and rush to get out of the cafeteria before I puke all over the floor. The sick continues to rise up my throat as I rush to run towards the deserted bathrooms that only the smokers and drug addicts use. Once I make it to the bathrooms I breathe deeply before entering the bathroom. Upon entering I notice the same group of boys clad in all black staring me down as I make my way towards one of the end stalls, the ones that are least occupied that is. I guess you could kind of say that everyone who are loners tend to come and lock themselves in a stall for all of lunch, myself usually included. I jump out of the way of a couple heavily making out and dig my arm into the fresh cuts I marked on my skin yesterday.

As I pass the dark clad group I catch onto the smell mint, coffee and cigarettes. The smell is so intoxicating that I find myself drawn closer to it. Stop Devin, you aren’t doing anyone any good by smelling someone. I step down the end of the bathroom and enter the toilet cubicle that is close to the wall and place my bag on the small bench and pull out my permanent marker and scribble it on the front of my hand to see if it’s still working or not. || Once I figure out it is working, I grab a razor out of my satchel and gently make a cut on my wrist, reopening one of my first scars I ever created. I then grab the permanent marker and push it into the cut, hissing at the stinging pain it gives me, the sensation feels so surreal, a mixture of bubbling cuts and pain. Once I finish injuring myself, I pull down my sleeves and begin to draw on the wall with another sharpie, adding some final touches to my skull and rose mural, also adding some blood drops leaking off of the rose. I then add a small quote next to it, ‘roses will bleed tomorrow.’ I have decided, considering my mate won’t want me, that I will be ending my life after the ceremony tomorrow. I’m still not sure what I would call it probably something alone the lines of ‘absolute torture of the year ceremony,’ or something like that. I’m positive on why I want to end my life, I don’t have a purpose. No one cares for me. I’m not even seen as a human being. I get told I’m fat, I think so too. I’m bulimic, anorexic and a self harmer. No one needs this kind of person in the world, not when they are rolled up into one shitty boy. ||

The bell goes all too soon and I place the unwashed razor in the palm of my hand, careful not to squeeze too much. I then place the marker back where it belongs and step out of the cubicle, shivering at how cold the air had become, usually when the air became this cold, a dominant is close to breaking. I chuck the used razor into the trash can next to my cubicle - moved by myself - and wrap my arms around myself and begin to walk down the other end of the bathroom where those boys were again.

“Ricky! Calm down! You need to control yourself! You can’t let it win again! You can’t lose who you are!” I hear a growl and a bunch of shouting coming down the end of the bathroom.

“I can’t! It’s getting through and you know it! It always wins! I can’t just control myself!” The sound of nails being scratched down the wall make me cover my ears at the frequency of how high that sound was. The frequency is loud enough for me to realise that this person is a finger width away from snapping, making me quite afraid of whoever it was.