Over Again (Larry Stylinson AU)

Over Again (Larry AU)

Prologue:

                                   As I sat in my room, I tried to play the music in my ears louder. I hoped the lyrics would calm me down, but I could still hear them. The voices. They screamed at me, begging me to do what they say. I felt the tears roll down my cheeks. I hated this. I wished they would stop.

                                     I tried singing, hoping they would go away. I was basically screaming the lyrics now, trying as hard as I could to ignore everything. My room turned into a blur. The light orange walls covered with pictures of my favorite football teams faded into one color.

Just kill yourself. You know you're ugly. And you're just a fag. Nobody likes an ugly fag.

                                   "No!" I said out loud, stomping my foot. If felt as if the walls were spinning around. I couldn't take it anymore. I wanted them to leave me alone. I crossed the room, reaching out to look at myself in the mirror. Was I really that ugly? My light brown hair feathered out across my forehead in an overly dramatic swoop. My eyes were blue. I didn't have too much acne. I think I look fine.

Don't kid yourself, fag. Just kill yourself.

                                     That was the final straw. Maybe the voice was right. Maybe I was just a bloody faggot. I looked in the mirror once more, leaning forward and pressing my head against glass. My eyes were pretty boring. I needed a hair cut as well. I looked as if I was just going to Year 8. My skin was tan but still looked as if I wasn't a good color. My nose was too small and I got crinkles around my eyes and mouth when I smiled.

                                    I knew, I just knew that I was meaningless. Someone as ugly as I am couldn't be loved. I couldn't become a drama teacher. I would never accomplish any of the goals I had worked so hard for. I didn't want to be forced to deal with this, day after day. Waking up and hearing the voices telling me how much of a git I am, then having to go to school and be called mean names because I was a bit eccentric. I couldn't deal with it anymore.

                                    I looked around, searching for a way out. I could jump out the window, but I don't think it would kill me. I was only on the second story, and I wouldn't want one of my sisters to come home and find me lying broken on the ground. Finally, I settled on cutting my wrists. Cliche, but it would have to do.

                                     In a rush, I grabbed the picture frama that was still empty, smashing the glass. The sound was heart-stopping, and it fit into this moment perfectly. I took the shard, twirling it around between my fingers. I had never self-harmed before. No one at my school did, and I had never met anyone who had. I once read a story about a boy who had because he was bullied. "Bullying, please. I wish that was my biggest problem." Once I muttered the words, I realized the voice was making me into a horrible person.

                                  After a moment, I slowly dragging the glass into my skin, my eyes wincing shut and a groan escaping my lips. Blood didn't drip, so I assumed I had to go deeper. I cut one of the less important veins, but either way it started to ooze. Blood started dripping onto the floor.

Deeper.

                                   I listened for once, unable to stand it. She was right. She was always right. The voices have always been there. They had told me to push the teacher off her chair when I was 7. They told me to dye my hair black when I was 9. They convinced me by the time I was 13 that I was gay. When I was 15, they wouldn't stop telling me how useless I was. But it was only in the past year that the voices have started telling me to harm myself.

                                  Dragging the glass into it slightly deeper, I didn't want to die. It wasn't soon before unconscious took over, my body almost numb, my eyes drooping. In a final attempt of dying gracefully, I layed on the bed, my arm hanging over as I fell into a deep slumber.

                                 Next thing I know, I woke up, in a room. A quick glance and I knew exactly where I was and why I was here. But most importantly, I realized a great thing.

I was alive.

But you shouldn't be.