Save Me With A Lullaby [Jackbum]

Lullaby 5

<Trigger Warning : Rape *moderate detailed flashback* + Self-harm>

He remembered every single detail from that night. 

The rain making his cries unknown, as he only cried into an abyss that no one knows. His own mind blank after the whole event, his low behalf aching in pain. His own neck bruised and his throat dry from the choked out sobs, the roughness from the other have made him feel numb. Whether it was from the cold or not, he felt numb and he couldn't think.

Disgusting hands helped him get his lower behalf get dressed, and Jackson rested against the wall. Shivering from the cold or trauma, he doesn't know, anymore. Looking down, he noticed the blood on the floor, and the rain was washing it away. As though the clouds pitied him, and tried to hide the evidence that his own consent was nonexistent and he have technically lost his virginity to a stranger. 

He would of felt bad like the clouds did, above. But, he couldn't. His body cold, and his own mind empty. He felt empty. He could physically feel the cold, only. 

He didn't realize the stranger have gave back his phone, and left him, alone. Eyes stung from the tears, and his throat dry from the choking and crying, he couldn't bring himself to feel anything. Did he pity himself? 

No, he didn't. He just wanted to slip into a darkness, and never wake up from it. 

He remembered walking inside his own apartment, the soreness in his lower behalf made him limp. He went straight to the bathroom and undressed himself, and he noticed the stained blood on his boxers. Looking away and avoiding the mirror of his own self, he went into the shower after turning it on. The cold water becoming warm, and it pounded against his flesh. He wrapped his arms around his own bare body, muscles not relaxing under the warm water and his head starting to defrost by the warm water above. 

As though the world seem to crash around him, he dropped on the floor, hugging himself as his own self-esteem lowered. His own esteem becoming worse, as he felt disgusted by one's body. He couldn't bring up his esteem, anymore. As it was already dead. No revival for it, but only cries for it to mourn.

Here he is. Sitting in the darkness of his room, where his own mind was racing. Skipping two days of work, meals, and sleep. He couldn't bring himself to care for himself, or move on. He was alone, and he couldn't bare it. 

He ignored his phone, as he was afraid the stranger will text him. He didn't want to see it. He knew the stranger added his number to his phone, and he wouldn't dare touch a cursed object. As it reminded him of the night, and that person. 

He remembered the self-hatred assuring him throughout the whole thing, as he was the one at fault while it happened. The pain in his behalf making him physically cry out, while his mind cried out to him to bare with it because it is what he deserves. For being weak, and a mistake. 

Honestly, this corrupting mind, he couldn't bare anymore. For the past two days, he have already created fresh new cuts. Reopening them repeatedly, as he tried to run away from his own thoughts with the pain. Only lasting minutes, his own antidote was becoming weak for him to fight back the poisonous mind of his. 

With the lack of sleep and food, he still lasted two days of bleeding out. He was surprised by the outcome. 

He held the razor between his fingers, gripping tightly as he looked down at his exposed legs and arm. He didn't want to get up from his own position, and do his own business in the bathroom. It would be much easier to clean, but he wouldn't move since he didn't care about his carpet staining with his fully grown roses. 

Dragging along his flesh, his flesh split apart under the sharpness of the weapon. Roses sprouted from the red split, blood streaked down his arms. He cut too deep, but he wouldn't care.