Attention || Lashton

Chapter 12

October 19, 2015:

Monday's will be the end of me. I hate being able to do nothing on the weekends, then being forcefully pried from your comfortable bed and home to come to the cruel surroundings of school. Where everybody is judgmental and hateful for no apparent reason, and I am left unnoticed.

It was after school and I was resting on the cement wall by the stairwell, acting as a rail. I had earbuds in and I was staring up at the gray cloudy sky, wishing my date with Luke in two hours would be fine. I felt nervous but he asked me Friday and I couldn't decline. According to him we were going to dinner, and that made me happy. I decided to not tell my Mum and siblings about it, fearing rejection.

I see Michael Clifford and Calum Hood walking out of the school together, hand and hand. I sat up from the cement wall to look over to them. Calum kisses Michael on the cheek and walks towards the parking lot; Michael going towards the front. I lay back down and wait for Michael to pass me before I say anything. I take out one earbud and clear my throat. "I always knew you were gay but Calum? That surprises me." I said, making Michael jump.

He turns around with his freshly dyed black and white hair. "Ashton-" He begins before I put my hand up, signalling for him to stop speaking.

"Don't worry about it." I reassure him, placing my earbud back in and getting up from the cement wall. Luke-at the moment-was at football practice and I was waiting for him to get out. But I knew Michael would be bothering me soon so I decided to leave. I need to get ready anyway. I change my walking pace depending on the song that was blasting through the small speakers. 

As I got home, I just about ran upstairs to my bedroom. I close the door and lock it behind me, my heart beating faster with anticipation. I strip of my casual clothing and change into a pair of black dress pants and a white button down long sleeve. I glance at myself in the mirror, frowning at my appearance. I smooth out the small bit of wrinkles in the shirt and look at the clock; I still had an hour left to get ready. 

My wrist itched as I watched the minutes go by on the analog clock next to my bed. What is the date goes badly? What if Luke begins to dislike me? What if, what if, what if. My wrist began burning with the overwhelming itching feeling and I went to my bathroom - lifting the white long sleeve to my elbow. I looked at my scarring arm in disappointment.

This was supposed to be for Luke.

Now you're just a failure.

You are becoming addicted.

Just do it already.

The voices became louder and louder as I searched for the loose razors. When I found them I sat back down and placed it flat on my arm. The slow ripping feeling stung momentarily until small drops of blood appeared in the small cut. I go back to my room and grab my phone, quickly heading back to the razor in the bathroom.

I pressed the search bar on top of the home screen and quickly began typing away. 'How to cut deeper using a razor blade'. 

Multiple results popped up but I decided to click on a random forum. 

'Best Answer:

press harder, swipe faster, hold the razor at an angle (i.e. use corner of blade), make sure it isn't dull.'

I grabbed the small piece of metal in my hand, placing the corner of the razor into my skin and rereading the instructions. I held it at an angle, pressed down until I felt a bit of tingling in my hand, and moved my right hand fast. I almost screamed out when I saw the skin part widely, blood racing out. I got up and held my wrist over the white sink as the small crimson drops of thick liquid stained the white material. I put the blade on the edge of the sink as the cut fulled itself with blood, still coming out at a decent pace. I turned on the cold water and cupped some in my right hand, gently pouring the water over the cut.

I bit my lip in pain, taking a deep breath in. I wasn't sure how long I stood there for, but it eventually stopped bleeding. I opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed out some gauze, wrapping the wide cut multiple times as it continued to stain the thin white material. 

I let out a sigh of relief, the nerves were gone. The voices were gone. The what if's no longer worried me.

I pulled the sleeve down and hid my razor back to it's original place. I kept the water on as I scrubbed the coagulated liquid from the bowl of the sink. I dried my hands and exited the bathroom, phone in hand. I was the only one home. My Mum was at the elementary school's chorus concert, but I didn't want to go to see it. Even if my siblings were in it.

I laid down in my bed, staring up at the white ceiling. I didn't fall asleep, but I just stared. I turned my head over to look at the analog clock: two hours after Luke was supposed to pick me up.

He isn't showing.

You didn't cut yourself enough to gain his sympathies.

You're pathetic.

Even an hour later, there was no knock. I felt so betrayed as I stayed in the comfortable bed in uncomfortable clothing. Maybe there wasn't a point in trying.