Save me- Lashton

Chapter 32

Going home after going to school and being at Cal's wasn't fun.

I was once surrounded by people, but now I'm back to being alone where my thoughts can attack me and take control of everything I've ever thought.

Like always my parents were nowhere to be seen, and even if they were there, they wouldn't talk to me nor acknowledge me; it's sad, knowing your parents couldn't care less about you, I can't blame them though. I hate myself.

Work today was boring, Calum didn't stay- not that it surprises me- and nothing good happened.

The reason I have a job is because my parents never give me any money, nor do they pay for anything I own. Of course, food and the bills get paid by them, but that's it.

My birthday they don't even talk to me, and I normally spend it with Calum. And on Christmas I'm not acknowledged, or given anything, but it's okay. I haven't got a present from my parents since my brothers left.

I had decided to leave my guitar in Cal's car, knowing I'll be taking it to Mikey's tomorrow; but now, I can't help but miss it.

I collapse onto bed and stare at the ceiling above me. The light of the room contrasting to my thoughts that swarm me and drown me in the darkness that is myself.

'You're useless'

'Disgusting'

'Worthless'

'Faggot'

'You should just die already.'

Tears fall down my face as I feel all the thoughts crash down around me. The sadness in my heart is thick and too hard to push through. For years and years, I have fought this feeling, the feeling of absolute nothingness. Some might think it's a nice feeling, but when I start to feel nothing, it makes me feel like I can never be okay again.

My mind screams for release from this torturous world, while my heart begs to fight. A war is fought between the two of them, my brain wanting to die, while my heart wants to live. It's exhausting; it's painful.

With tears blurring my vision I stand up and stumble into the bathroom, my wrists itching for the sting and the blood to fall.

Shakily I pull the drawer open and see the silver glint in the harsh glare of the lights above me.

Picking the piece of sharp metal up I hesitate. What would Cal think? And what about Ash and Mikey?

'They don't care, they want you dead. It would be so much better without you around. The least you can do is at least cause yourself pain, you deserve it.'

Sighing sadly, knowing the thought is right I place the serrated edge onto my cut up and scarred skin.

With every cut that is placed on my pale skin the thoughts die down. The blood drips out of the open cuts on both wrists as I watch on in silence.

I've always thought of it as though the blood that falls takes my sin, it takes all the hate and all the bad I have done and washes it away in a sea of red.

The worst part though of cutting, isn't before when your thoughts consume you; nor it is the sting of your skin when the blade digs deep into your wrist and draws the blood. But instead, it's after.

Once you've put the blade back into its original place and cleaned up all the blood. You're left with nothing.

The thoughts that once rained Hell in your head are gone. The world is in black and white, no colour is found anywhere; and you feel nothing. You no longer feel the sting in your wrists, or the tugging feeling in your gut that wants nothing more than for you to cut away all the pain. The sadness that was idly sat within you has vanished, leaving an empty void of nothingness in its place.

Sometimes I can cry while feeling this, but other times, like now; all I can do is lay there and look at the ceiling.

I hate doing this to myself, I hate all the scars that lay over my wrists. I've always heard people explain their scars, their voices nostalgic as they remember the memory. But I look down at mine, and it's like an echo of an agonising scream is relayed to me. Because I know these scars have no happy ending, instead, my scars show an endless war going on within my head. A war that I want so desperately to give up on and just let the darkness consume me and take me away.

But I don't.

At least not yet.

Only time will be able to tell if I'll make it out of this one.

Tears suddenly fall down my cheeks as I wish for my best friends to come and save me from myself; and for Ash to call my Penguin and hug me, and Cal to tell me it'll be okay because Cal Pal is right there beside me, and for Mikey to show me pictures of kittens and probably penguins and make me smile.

But instead, I'm alone and I cry myself to sleep with one thought on my mind.

Tomorrow you can see them all.