And the worst mental health award goes to....

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TW - .there's a lot of throwing up and mentions of parental abuse and shitty mental health and Self-harm and E.D 🚨

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Fire.

Dead soldiers.

Crown splattered with blood.

Crawling away from the guns, screams, bodies.

Helpless.

Stranded.

Alone.

Luke?

Is he head?

Oh my god.

Jake.

No.

I fall on my back. Sobbing, whimpering and in pain. So much pain.

My friends...family... everyone.

Gone.

My hand reaches over to the knife slashed into my other arm.

I grit my teeth and pull it out.

I am not sure if I am screaming or crying...maybe both.

I tear open the hem of my leggings with a knife. Everything seems so blurry.

Wrapping the cloth around my arm, I try to get up.

"Where do you think you're going?"

I jump into consciousness on my bed, hyperventilating.

Saline streaks start from my eyes and end up in my mouth.

I wipe my eyes and crawl out of bed, still sniffling.

The cold floor beneath my bare feet sends tingles up my toes as I walk into the bathroom.

I turn on the lights and can't help but flinch at my reflection in the mirror.

My hair, a frizzy mess, sticks to the heads of sweat all over my forehead and my eyes look as though I've been crying for hours (I mean.. it's true).

I try to wipe off the mascara running down my cheeks and the smudged up lipstick.

This is why you shouldn't go to bed with your makeup on.

     I run a hand through my hair and then keep splashing ice cold water on my face till I can't feel it anymore.

My stomach gurgles and before I can do anything, I am bent over the toilet, throwing up.

My throat burns. My stomach is on fire. I want to gauge my heart out.

     A few minutes later, I am sitting on the bathroom floor, occasionally sniffling.

Everything around me feels like it's swaying. Moving. Spinning.

That feeling of upcoming doom. Like, you can't breathe.

I try to get up but my wobbly knees say otherwise.

I don't want to call anyone.

I don't want to seem weak. I am just throwing up. I'll be fine.

I try to get up again with the support of the wall.

I walk out towards my bedroom and each step feels like a nightmare.

Finally, I crash onto my bed, panting, breathless.

I lay down on my side, knees to my chest, still not being able to breathe.

I am not going to lie and say stupid things that people say in the movies about how crying is such a relief.

It's not.

It hurts.

It earns you nothing but disappointed looks and bleeding wounds on your back from a belt. That's no relief.

It shows how you aren't capable of handling the tiny thing that is your own emotions.

I am not going to cry.

I am really glad I sent Jake away to a safehouse. Or else he'd be in my bedroom.

I don't want him to see me like this. Or anyone, for that matter.

I haven't ate anything for the last two days. Could that be the reason I am sick?

There's just...this feeling inside.

Do I have scissors somewhere? Or a blade?

Anything will do.

My phone rings.

I don't want to pick it up.

But the caller ID will make me feel guilty if I don't pick it up.

"Hey, Essie. I— uh...noticed you didn't eat anything tonight. Or for lunch. Or breakfast. Are you okay? Sorry if I am prying."

I choke out a sob and try to cover it up with a fake cough when I hear his voice.

"Yes, Azrael. I am just...a little sick. That's all.  Nothing to worry about. I'll be fine."

"Oh..also, I just wanted to confirm if we're still on for tomorrow."

What's tomorrow?

"You know...me being your escort to the ball your father's holding in honour of your return."

Oh.

Yeah.

"Yeah. Definitely. Still on."

"Can't wait to see you tomorrow," I almost hear his smile.

Is he laying down?

Does he just randomly think about me like this?

Involuntarily, I smile.

"Mhm. Me neither."

"Okay. Then... goodnight. Call me if you feel too sick."

"Bye."

I hang up the call but his words still echo through my mind.

"Can't wait to see you tomorrow"

This is stupid.

I have people to protect. People who depend on me.

I can't be this selfish and just end things.

I may not be loved but I am needed.

And I have to carry out my duty.

No matter what.

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