Chapter 4: We're in Pieces Now

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Alex's POV: **this chapter may be especially triggering so here's a small warning**

It hurt. It was excruciating. I could barely breathe. Jack Barakat is back at it again, ruining my mental state.

I get home, completely numb. I throw my phone on my bed, closing my door. I sit on the floor in front of it, running my hands through my hair. I break down, my entire body shaking with the force of my crying. Worthless, pathetic little boy, crying over someone who left you. You didn't deserve him. You know what you deserve, though? Pain, because you weren't good enough.

I walk into the bathroom and look at my reflection, disgusted as always. I open the bathroom drawer, revealing the blade I keep concealed inside. I pick it up with shaky hands, and for some reason, I feel guilty, like someone is telling me not to do it.

Then again, there's the louder voices that coax me into it. Jack would want you to do it. He wants you dead. Everyone wants you dead. Maybe this time, you'll cut so that you'll actually die this time. The pain will end. Just make the cut.

I give in to the voices, making two cuts on my wrist. The scars on my wrists aren't as bad as the ones on my hips, since those were easier to cover up. I lift up my sweatshirt and push down the waistband of my pants, pushing the metal deep into my skin, dragging it across. I repeat the action until my hip is covered with blood, causing me to drop the blade on the ground.

"Arrogant boy, love yourself so no one has to," I say just as I hear the front door open and close. Fuck. My dad is home. I get up to lock the door, but I'm too late. He's already in the doorway, reeking of alcohol as per usual.

"What are you doing?" he says lowly.

"Just got home. About to do some homework," I reply cooly, hoping he takes the hint and leaves.

"I bet you're about to run off to that kid Jack's house, you faggot. I bet you just want to fuck him, don't you?" He doesn't know I'm not friends with Jack anymore. I didn't tell him because things would get worse. I'd have to always be home; I'd have no excuse to leave the house.

"No, I wasn't, I was-" I'm interrupted when he pushes me to the ground, causing me to hit my head on the box frame of my bed. Pain in my side shoots through my body, as the cuts on my side were still bleeding out.

"Don't lie to me, you useless, disappointing piece of shit," he growls, kicking my legs and the back of my head. Everything is fuzzy when I see something come toward my face. After that, everything goes black.

-=+=-

I wake up, looking at the time. 4:16 a.m. I decide to go to sleep, since my head is pounding. I move my phone, putting it on charge, making it light up. I had 4 messages from... Jack?

Wednesday, August 21, 2019

Hey Lex

I know you don't want to hear
from me after today, but I rly
need to talk to you

Meet me at our spot at 9 p.m.
and if you're not there I'll
leave you alone. Just pls
let me explain everything

I promise you won't regret
it. Love you, Lex

Woah okay, what the fuck? Jack wanted to talk to me? How do things keep getting worse? I wasn't even fucking conscious to read the damn text. But, great, now we're even more broken than before. I can't think at all, part of me remembers responding but I'm not sure. My head is spinning and it wouldn't stop. I practically pass out, wishing I won't wake up in the morning.

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