Someone Out There Loves You (Adopted by Frank Iero)

76

*A/N: this chapter talks about suicidal thoughts and feelings of suicide, there's a trigger at the part where it's mainly focused but that theme is throughout the whole chapter*

ALEXA

*trigger warning: self harm*

It was a mixture of ecstasy and guilt, pain and pleasure, satisfaction and regret, and I couldn't for the life of me stop. There was so much blood, too much to wipe it all away and discreetly get rid of the evidence, so at some point I had moved myself from the bathroom floor and into the shower, the sound of the water running covering up my cries as the fresh cuts stung, the water turning a shade of red as is pooled around me as I sat before disappearing down the drain. I wished it could have taken me with it.

Turning the water off, I stood shakily, using the wall for support. With wobbly legs I stepped out of the shower and began drying my body, only to catch glimpses of myself in the mirror. The angry red lines littering my skin were an ugly yet satisfying sight, but there was still the monster in my head. It wanted more from me. The rational part of me knew I needed to stop before I did some serious damage, but that meant the feeling wasn't completely gone. I hadn't satisfied the urge. All I had managed to do was quiet it down a little and make myself weak and dizzy.

When I woke up this morning, I could feel it deep inside me that today was going to be particularly hard to get through. The guy on the phone last night was wrong: going to bed didn't help - I woke up and my first thought was how badly I wanted to kill myself. It was the scariest feeling and I wouldn't wish it upon anyone. Every fibre in my being was craving death.

That was what ultimately resulted in me locking myself in the bathroom this early in the morning. Looking into the hollow eyes of the reflection in front of me, I knew she couldn't do this alone. Not today. It would involve pushing aside some fear and reluctance to see Frank after the ordeal of getting high and having a panic attack and subsequently ruining dinner plans with Jamia - I'd spent yesterday more or less avoiding him - but I didn't think I had much of a choice if I was to get through today.

As much as I didn't want to admit it, I needed him. I really, really needed him. And that meant being a little transparent.

I pulled on my oversized black hoodie and sweatpants, biting my lip at the pain as I felt them sting to the open cuts, before tiptoeing downstairs with tears in my eyes. I tried to make my movements smooth and languid and not jolty because of the pain shooting through my limbs from how much I just tore them up, leaning heavily on the rail on the way down to take the weight off my legs.

I saw Frank sitting comfortably on the couch, a book in hands, a mug of coffee balancing dangerously on the arm rest.

"Dad?" I asked softly, pulling my sleeves over my hands. "C-can I talk to you?"

He looked up at me, his face soft and eyebrows knitted together. I couldn't imagine how I must have looked to him. Probably nervous.

He set his book down and nodded solemnly. "Come sit," he murmured, patting the couch next to him.

Descending the rest of the stairs and coming to the lounge room, I perched nervously on the edge of the couch, pulling my sleeves way past my hands. My heart felt like it was my throat, choking me up. I wanted to tell him. I really wanted to. But the coward in me was wanting to back out. It's not too late. I don't have to say anything.

"What's up?" Frank prompted, his voice delicate.

I couldn't meet his eyes. My gaze was glued to my hands, specifically the remains of the black nail polish that was now completely chipped. Instead of using my words, I began tearing up, my hair thankfully shielding my face from Frank's line of sight.