You're My Strength (A Nathan Sykes FanFic)

The Dream?

Turns out I didn't sleep much. I couldn't get comfortable and every time I almost started drifting off I had weird dreams. Bad dreams, but it was like I was still subconsciously awake which made it seem all the more real. In the end I had to get up. Climbing carefully over the sleeping figure laying so close to me, I padded into the bathroom to pee.

Becoming more awake, I became more aware of the pain inside me. I'd felt it before, when this boy I liked turned out to be using me. The one person I opened up to, trusted with my life and all he wanted was to get into my pants. I didn't, of course, but maybe I should have. The very same day he went home and bedded another girl. My best friend. Was my best friend. I screamed and cried and threw things. Why had I been so stupid as to trust people? That's always my biggest mistake, trusting. It's why I struggle now. When I'd finally stopped screaming long enough to ask why, I got this reply;

"Because I don't give a fuck about you! I never loved you, I never even liked you! Who in their right mind would want to love someone like you?! Look at you, you're fat and ugly you make me sick. I only wanted to see how far you'd go with me, and on top of everything else, you're a frigid freak. You have so many issues and problems and blah blah blah! You might as well go and fucking die- you'd be doing us all a favour, you stupid bitch."

And with that I left. Tears streaming down my face, I ran home and screamed into my pillow. Then my hand brushed something cold under it. Looking under, I found the Stanley knife I was using to destroy my previous bed. The one I had almost been raped in before I met Ryan. Yeah, I'm not gonna go into that. That hurts just as much.

Realising I had been sat there for a while, I stood up and flushed the chain. Washing my hands, watching the water wash away the soap reminded me of when I was washing away the blood. I had this need to cut. I needed to let out the bad blood. Crepping back into my room, I rifled through my desk until my hands grasped the cold metal again. Memories of relief flooded me. Going downstairs, as if in a daze I sat on the sofa letting the memories of pain fill me, but I still couldn't unsheathe the blade. There was something stopping me, and I noticed that my thoughts always trailed back to Nathan and his reactions and his hurt. I couldn't let him see. I should be used to the pain by now, I've had it a while. And death threats, I've had them too. But they still get to me, everything gets to me. I actually kept the hastily scrawled threats that were shoved into my locker, yet never told anyone. They were in the cupboard under the stairs.

Sitting on the floor, face sodden with tears, surrounded by crumpled paper and a sense of relief. I couldn't stop it anymore, the urge was too great. Nothing or no one had ever made me cry so much as Nathan had, but still I couldn't forget him. I felt the blood run down my stomach, coating my pyjama top. I looked down at myself in disgust before slicing deep one last time and throwing the blood soaked blade across the room. It hit a picture frame, breaking the glass and splattering the picture underneath with blood. It was one of me and my mum when we were little and she actually cared about me. I couldn't look anymore. I brought my knees up to my chin and sobbed and sobbed.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" I heard a faint yell. I was laying on the floor at this point in a daze. I barely registered being hauled to my feet and then being pushed back down again. I heard him on the phone and shouting frantically. What seemed like seconds later, I had 3 faces around me, shaking me and then I felt a cold sting which brought everything back into focus. Seeing the face above me was Max. Looking down was Tom, covered with blood soaked tissue, tending to my stomach. Standing across from me was Nathan on the phone, barely being able to hold it from shaking.

Suddenly rushing to my feet I grabbed the phone from his hand and ended the call. There was no way I was going to hospital. I felt really dizzy and grabbed onto Nathan for support, and he was telling me to sit down. Then I think I blacked out.

My eyes fluttered open, tight from falling asleep with them full of tears. Nathan was leaning over me shaking me violently, urging me to wake up. "Channa! Chantelle, wake up! I'm here, it's okay, I'm here." Memories of the blood filled me and I looked down to see the top I was wearing was the same one I fell asleep with, and there was no blood. I heaved a sigh of relief and pulled Nath close to me, breathing in his scent. It was a dream, only a dream. How can something I saw so clear be a dream?

He stayed and rocked me until the effects of the dream had worn off and my heart wasn't going to pound its way out of my chest. I wiped my face and got up silently. Looking over at the desk where I knew I had hidden the knife, I saw it had moved and was now in clear view on top of everything. I was puzzled. If that was just a dream, then why had it moved? I shook my head and locked myself in the bathroom. I heard the sound of bacon frying and smiled. It was his specialty. Then the smell hit me, hard. Moving my hair out of my face, I threw up in the toilet. There wasn't much on account of an empty stomach, and it was mostly water but it still hurt nonetheless. I realised why I had. sometimes if I smell food, it makes me feel sick, which helps with the not eating it. I heard a knocking on the bathroom door. "Chantelle? You okay? I got you a glass of water." Wiping my mouth with some tissue and flushing the chain, I opened the door to be hit with a fresh wave of the smell, which sent my stomach lurching. I took a deep breath and took the glass weakly. "Thanks. I'm sorry." I said quietly. "Hey, don't apologise." I went to shut the door again, but he walked in and opened the window and sat next to me where my legs had given way. He rested my head on his shoulder and stroked my damp hair. How was he still here? Maybe he's pretending to care just like everyone else.

Dragging myself deeper into depression, I stood up and waited for the dizzyness to pass. Holding onto the wall for support, I told Nathan I was getting a shower. Silently, he got  up and left. I waited until I heard him move downstairs, then I walked back into the bedroom. Immediately, I sensed there was something different. I turned towards the desk and found the knife with the blade out and pointing at me. Underneath there was a note:

KILL YOURSELF. WE'RE BETTER OFF WITHOUT YOU