Seaside Rendezvous

Bad Decisions..part 2

TW: SENSITIVE CONTENT! DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY THIS!

Brian's POV

I lied. I didn't actually have to be home, I just couldn't stand being around the others for any longer. Roger's words rang through my brain.
'Um, I meant it in a friend way, you know? Like, I love you as a friend. Like I do Freddie and Deaky. But you're the best.' Of course he didn't love me like that. Why would he? He probably had his eyes set on someone far more gorgeous. Someone who would treat him better.

As soon as I had got through the door, I'd torn up the stairs, not even saying hello to my parents. I went straight to my room, and locked the door, before flinging myself down onto my bed. I wasn't even sure my parents knew I was home, and I really hoped that they hadn't heard me. I didn't want to talk to anyone right now. Well, except Roger. I always wanted to talk to Roger. I buried my face in my pillow as tears started pouring from my eyes. Why are you like this? A voice asked.

"I don't know.." I said out loud, but it was muffled by the pillow. You can't stay like this. Why are you even here still? What's the point? You're so fucking ugly, your body is disgusting and your scars will just scare anyone away. Oh I know, make more! Fucking make more! It doesn't matter, you're already covered in scars. Some more won't matter at all.

"No! I won't do that to Roger, Freddie or Deaky. Or my parents.." I talked to myself and tried to push the voice away. In doing so, I went back to Roger and what he'd said. The more I thought about it, the more I felt like I'd done something wrong to him. I grabbed my phone and ignored all my notifications, and went straight to WhatsApp and to Roger's chat.

[You: Did I do something to upset you?]

I texted him and waited. He was probably busy. It was only 7. He was probably still out with Freddie and Deaky, and I suddenly regretted not staying out with them. I assumed he wouldn't reply, so I shut my phone off and laid back down, letting the tears fall. I didn't bother to wipe them away. I heard my phone buzz, and I usually wouldn't answer it, but the thought that it could be Roger was too strong so I turned it on and was surprised to see it was actually Roger. As I unlocked my phone, another message from him came through. I opened the chat and read what he'd written.

[Roggie 🥁: Uhhh no?]
[What happened Bri?]

[You: Are you sure?]

[Roggie 🥁: Yes]
[Y r u asking?]

[You: Sorry.]
[I'm just anxious I guess. Everyone seems to be acting distant from me. I feel like I did something. No-one seems to really care anymore, I don't matter as much as I used to. I'm just second best to everyone. I feel like no-one values me that much anymore. People are always telling me I'm not as good as someone else, always saying I'm second best. Not directly, but it's all I hear. I never have anyone to talk to when I really need it. I just overthink stuff and make everything worse for myself. I'm sorry, I really shouldn't dump everything on you. You don't deserve someone like me. You deserve more than this, Rog.]
[FUCK.]
[I don't mean to take it out on you.]
[Please just ignore me.]

The voice came back. You're so stupid, look what you've done. Gone and told all your problems to him, he probably hates you. What're you gonna do without him? I tried not to listen, but it was strong. I focused on watching the screen, and seeing that he read it but went offline. I switched my phone off and laid it down on my bed. See? He just ignored you like you asked. He doesn't care, and he never he has. He never will. He doesn't want to listen to someone as fucked up as you. As ugly and as scarred as you. You should replace the mental pain with physical pain. You already have so many scars, it won't matter. It won't make a difference. My phone buzzed next to me, but I dismissed it and got up, walking towards the bathroom. I went in and shut and locked the door, hoping that my parents hadn't heard me move. I went to the cabinet and squatted down, and opened the doors. I immediately reached for where I knew the razors were, and grabbed one out of the packet. I unscrewed it's safety case and slid the sharp blade out. I held the shiny metal in my hand and watched as it glinted in the light. It felt nice in my hand. I realised I still had all my clothes on, so put the razor down and shimmied out of my jeans. I pulled my hoodie and shirt off, chucking them aside. I purposely avoided looking at myself in the mirror, and grabbed the blade again. I didn't want to do this, but I also did. I knew that there was no going back if I did it. I knew that after the first cut, there would be no turning back. I wouldn't be able to stop. With this thought lingering in my mind, I brought the sharp blade down to my forearm first, and pressed down. I felt a sharp, searing pain and blood immediately started flowing out. I realised I'd probably pressed too deep, so took the razor away and grabbed a piece of toilet paper, and pressed it onto the small but deep cut, applying just enough pressure to slow the bleeding as much as possible.