After 2 years, you finally saw them again. Their regretful stares boring into your figure only made your temper rise. Who were they to give you that look when only before they act as if nothing happened? They didn't help you when you were in trouble...
Authors note: Hi everyone! I'd like to remind you all of the trigger warnings before reading further!
GONE. includes but is not limited to... -Suicide -Death -Mental illness -Self harm -Murder -Canon-typical violence
And a lot more triggering subjects. If you feel uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please stop reading this book. Thank you all for all of the support! Enjoy reading!
Purple Rain- Prince & The Revolution
2005, December 26th, 1:25
Your mind felt hazy as you walked home. The constant and repetitive pitter-patter of your footsteps hitting the mixture of water and snow made a less than pleasant sound. The ache of your feet didn't stop you from making your way home. You couldn't see straight. You were stumbling over yourself for what seemed like every minute. Your throat felt dry, your heart was going 200 miles a minute. You felt the need to throw up, not being able to think about anything other than yourself and what happened. You didn't know what direction you were going nor where you were going, only looking around at vaguely familiar signs and buildings through your hazy vision to get you to where you needed to be. Home.
You couldn't help but question your self worth. Did everything you've been through amount to this? Did you truly think you were worth anything? Maybe not as you approached the vending machine in front of you, scrounging for enough money in your pocket. You had enough to buy two beers, the cold numbing your hands. You scoffed. Everyone was so damn trusting that it made your head pound even more. You watched as depressed adults wasted away. All the drunk old men watching you from a far catcalling you. Before the incident you would've beat them up, but now, you didnt. You're tired.
Struggling to fit your apartment key into its lock, you finally were able to enter your house. The scattered objects across the floor proved to be a challenge as you traversed through the make-shift obstacle course into the bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror. Correction: you tried to look at yourself in the mirror. All you saw was black fuzz that was in a human- like shape. Was this really you? You looked down at yourself. You held your hands up, flipping them and looking at your arms. No, you looked as you did mere hours ago. You must've been mistaken. You haphazardly look up towards the mirror once again. That black fuzz was there once again. You were getting irritated. You were confused on what to believe. Was the mirror correct, or your own vision. Doused in a fit of rage, you decided to end it all by punching the mirror. Shards impaling your hand as well as cascading to the ground. the light reflected off of them, causing there to be a faint glow. You didn't care, though.
All you saw was red. It wouldn't go away. Your conflicting emotions causing you a greater deal of pain than what you would have bargained for. Making your way to your room, you didn't bother to care for the pain you felt in your hand, blood trickling down and making a path. You sat next to your bed, finally being able to relax. You laid your head against your bed and looked up. The dull gray color reminded you of your life. Things are only just now getting interesting since your alliance with Kisaki. You liked it that way. You liked there being at least one thing if your life that was interesting.
You liked distracting yourself because you didn't want to focus on your own life.
You wanted your dull monotone life to end.
Your head was spinning. Your vision turning staticky. Your thoughts were plagued by them— Toman. You already had conflicted thoughts about Mitsuya. This was all just a mess. You were a mess. You were useless. You did nothing during that fight. The only use you brought was distracting Taiju by being his personal punching bag for a whole 10 seconds. Why did you have to look weak in front of them of all people?
The voices in your head were constant, and you couldn't control them. They plagued you. You were in a perpetual loop. Hearing their agonizing voices, their insults, their sweet words that they once used to say to you.
You hugged yourself, the grip on yourself growing tighter and tighter, you were scared to lose yourself to your own thoughts. Your nails brought a numbing sense of pain to yourself, scraping and drawing blood to your already battered and bruised skin. You loathed the way you acted. You loathed who you became. You loathed your past actions. You loathed the people you surrounded yourself with. You loathed yourself.
It's not your fault You kept telling yourself— It's all Manjiro's fault.
It's his fault that your life came crashing down. It's his fault that your life is a mess. It's his fault that you feel the familiar coolness of your blood trickling down your arm and staining your floor a deep crimson. You couldn't help but sob. But from the pain you felt, but because of how pathetic you were. You could see them standing above you— everyone that you had previously once called friends. You could hear them talking, but couldn't comprehend what they were saying. You could hear the malice in their voice, but it no longer affected you.
It was all a constant loop— a reminder of how truly lonely you are. And as you weep and continue to litter more wounds into yourself, it's as though you are taken back to the past, where your once rose-tinted life started to crash like domino pieces.
"Let's form our own gang."
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Authors note: I'm so sorry for not updating for almost a whole year! I really have no excuses. I have had this written for a while and have actually rewritten it several times because I haven't liked the way any of them turned out. I felt like I couldn't properly convey the emotions of the chapter properly. But with that being said, thank you all of the support that you have given me! I really appreciate it!
