Bullied || Shawn Mendes

Chap. 9

It's been dead silent for the last few minutes. The sound of my heart beating in my chest is the only thing I can hear at the moment. My sweaty hands sit underneath my legs, as a stare out into space.

This is my fault. All of it. I'm the reason why this is all happening. I feel tears start to build up behind my eyes and soon enough, they've come out and ran down my ckeeks. Brandon must've noticed because just a few seconds later, I feel his hand tighten around mine. Subconsciously, I grip his hand as well. I see that on the other side of Brandon, Aaron is quiet and leaning on the side of Brandon, his small hands wrapped around Brandon's arm.

"Your father and I. . ." my mom starts. I can already see tears start to trickle down her cheeks. "youre father and I have decided that it would be best for all of us to get a divorce."

Actually hearing it in my mother's voice makes it hurt me even more. Next to her, my father just sits and stares down at his palms. He hasn't said anything yet.

"We just. . .we haven't been agreeing on things much lately."

The tension in the room brings sweat to my forhead ad I can feel it drip down the side of my face. My body is telling me to cry, and cry loud, but my subconscious is telling me to sit quickly and listen to what they have to say. But the only thing I can hear is a long, loud ringing in my ear. I can see my mother talking, but I can't hear what she is saying. I want to scream as loud as I can, but something inside tells me not to. I can't fight the feeling of wanting to cry and my head drops into my hands as I let many tears fall down my face. Brandon's hands wraps around my body but I harshly push them away. I didn't intend to push him so hard and his eyes widen when I meet his gaze. I quickly stand, as does everyone else as they watch my reaction.

"This is my fault," I mutter and shake my head. I quickly turn and run for my room, not letting anyone order me to sit back down.

I've completely lost it once I reach my door. I push it open with force and slam it shut behind me. Not thinking, I push the papers from my desk onto the floor, and banged my hand onto the hard surface, my hed slowly falling to meet them. I stood like that for a few minutes, with my head on my hands against the desk, repeatedly telling myself, "this is my fault. Do you see what you've done to your family, Tegan?" Anger floods through me as I dig through my drawers for a blade.

Now I lay on my side across the floor, curled up into a ball. I think I've been here for at least two hours, but I have no concept of time, really. I just know that I've been laying for a very long time. As much as I want to stop crying, the tears never seem to stop flowing from my eyes. My breathes are loud and my chest and throat begins to ache from the crying. Frankly, I kind of wish someone would come knocking on my door, but I don't really want to leave this position. And I don't want them to see that I'm still crying.

I start to hear quiet muttering outside my door and I slowly sit up into a sitting position, my knees wrapped around my arms. My door creaks open and I see my parents quietly tip toe into my room, widening their eyes when they see me on the floor. My father sits at the chair at my desk and my mom sits at the end of my bed.

"Come," my mom says, patting the empty space on my bed for me to sit.

I slowly get to my feet and sit by the headborad on my bed, and bring my knees back up to my chest. The feeling of screaming is still present and tears are still streaming down my cheeks. I don't think I've ever felt worse in my life, even though my life seems to suck.

"Are you feeling alright?" she asks. I sit there with a blank expression on my face. My sweaty palms lie in my lap and my dark, wavy hair rests past my shoulder, with a few strands of hair over my face. The tension in the room grows more awkward for every second that my parents sit and stare at me.

"I know this is a lot to handle." my father says. "But we want you to know that we love you and we always will, okay?"

They know this is my fault. I can tell that they do. There's this look in their eyes that says, "this is your fault but we don't want you to know." The bothpf them smile at me, but I stare at them, clueless of what to say.

"I'm so sorry," I eventually say. My voice cracks and tears start to stream down my face.

My mother sudeenly moves closer to me, but I push her small, soft hands away. She looks as if she is about to cry, her cheeks have gone light pink, and her eyes have turned red. I look towards my father, who has been crying, he looks down into his palms and I watch small teardrops fall from his cheeks. The feeling of wanting to jump off a bridge has taken over me. Though, I get that feeling a lot, this time it is powerful. I feel my legs wanting to move but I stay put,  wathcing my parents cry before me. I want to run. I want to run far, far away. So far that I'll lose my tracks and never come back. I feel that I don't have a reason to be here, anyway. All I do is ruin relationships and other kid's lives. So what's the point of me living?

My mother looks towards my father, who then comes to sit on the other side of the bed. I see my dad's lips quiver as he places a hand on my shoulder. "We will always love you. . . no matter what happens. You will always be my little princess and I know your mother will love you just as much."

My head falls into the space between my knees and I feel my father's hands trying to comfort me. "We'll let you settle down, Tegan. We'll have to talk about this later," I hear my mom say, and a few moments pass before I hear my door quietly shut.

It's been a few days since my parents told us the news. And since then, I've been more depressed than I've ever felt before. I started to cut my legs, and my stomach. As much as I didn't want to, my depression would always take over me. My arms are covered in scars now, which is the main reason why I've started to cut my legs. Sometimes, my brother would catch me in the bathroom, and he'd have to fight me and pry my hand open to take the blade from me. He would literally have to hold me against the wall and take it from me. And that would leave scars on my palms as well. My cuts have gotten deeper, and more painfull for every day that I'm getting more and more depressed. I was supposed to go back to school a few days ago, but my parents didn't think I was ready to go back. But frankly, I'd rather be at school, then at my home. I've done nothing but sit in my room.

My parents signed the divorce papers today, and I watched. I watched them sign their names onto a piece of paper that destroys families. Now I just have to wait for the day to come. For the day that offically means my parents aren't married anymore. Which is only scheduled a month from now.

Everything just seemed to crumble underneath me. I feel like my world has stopped spinning. The only thing on my mind is the constant feeling of killing myself. Every single day.

I just want to end the pain. And I could if I wanted to. But then I think about the consequences. Though, I don't have many friends, in fact I have only one friend, Maya, and we aren't even that close yet, I think about what I'd be doing to my family. Aaron would be confused out of his mind, wondering why on earth anyone would want to kill themselves. My parents wouldn't be able to live with themselves any more. And Brandon, well honestly, I would miss him. He's so kind and protecting towards his family and friends. I know that if I were gone, he would want to be gone too. And out of all of that, I would think that they would all miss me.

My family is the only thing keeping me together, but I'm just so close to breaking apart.