Had Enough (Fonnie)

Chapter Eleven (BLOOD)

Foxy POV

I wake up to see a note on my door. It's from Bon it reads:
"Hey, I got breakfast and put it outside your door. Love you :)"
I laugh to myself and put the note on my mirror. I open my door to find Chick-fil-A breakfast on the floor. I take the bag into my room and leave to get a drink. I looked in our fridge and found a bottle of Jack Daniel's. Sure, why not. I can use something to wash away the emptiness even though it's 10 a.m. I head back to my room and shut the door behind me.

T I M E S K I P

It was about 6 p.m when my brain turned off autopilot. I found myself in the corner of my room with tears coming down my face and an almost empty bottle of liquor next to me. How the hell did my life get this way? Some ugly motherfucker with someone they don't deserve that is in a group of friends that they don't deserve. Jesus dude, I keep talking smack about myself. I just can't help it. It just happens. I start to sob into my arms, trying to be quiet so I wouldn't disturb Bon. I fell bad for him because he has to take care of me and deal with my bullshit. When I was younger, I used to cut. It was a bad habit. I have lately been thinking about doing it again. I've given up on my life anyways.

I rummage through my closet to find my old straight razor. I used to use this for cutting. I grabbed a towel from my bathroom and sit on the floor. I put the towel in my lap and open the razor. It is time. I clench a fist and bring the razor close. It gets past my fur and makes contact with my skin. I start to push it and slide it across my wrist. Cuts like butter. Blood starts to pour out. It hurts but I love it. I start pushing harder, more blood comes out. I finish that line with a quick slit at the end. I want...more. I put the blade under the first cut. I slice again, hoping to let all the bad feelings out. I start to bleed more than the first cut. The blood flows out like a waterfall. At this point, the towel is now red. I hold my wrist while walking over to my bathroom. I look in my drawer and find a sewing kit. I use it to stitch my cuts back together because they were too bad to heal on their own. I wash the blood away and get some bandageto cover it all up. I leave to go throw the towel into the washing machine. When I turn on the machine, I leave the laundry room and find Chica. "Dinner is almost ready." She says in a joyful tone. "Alright" I say and head back to my room. I hide the razor in my bathroom and start to reflect on what the hell I just did.