not actually there || dnf

chapter 11 ✰

dream.

george and i are sat on the couch, dull music playing in the background. the television has a movie playing on it but i can't focus on it because i can feel george's eyes staring at me. he turns his head, and he sort of stares at me with this sort of lust in his eye. i turn and i look at him.

"what?" i ask, a smile on my face. i'm playing stupid. he smiles faintly, and leans in to kiss me. i peck his lips with a second kiss and he smiles at me. his lips are soft, and he has cherry chapstick on.

my eyes flicker down his body. he has on a white t-shirt, and plain black jeans. his silver chain is peeking out the top of his collar.

he kisses me again, again, again and again. we kiss until i'm leaving over him and my body is half on him. i'm out of breath, but i keep kissing him. he's all over me, and i like it. a lot.

he tugs at my shirt, and he looks up at me kind of desperately. i grin, and i lean down to kiss his neck. he places his hand on the back of my head and plays with my hair.

"i love you," he whispers.

i look up at him, "i love you more."

i lean on his arm for a moment and i just breathe in his smell. he has a slight cologne on, but i can't put my finger on what one.

when i look up at him, he's staring down at me, a small grin is across his face.

"what?" i ask, smiling.

he shakes his head, "nothing."

i laugh, and it makes him laugh too. soon enough i'm pushing myself up, and leaning in close to him. i kiss his lips, and he kisses me back with such a passion i've never felt. i wish every moment of my life felt like this.

~

i started thinking to myself what would happen if i ran a knife across my wrist, but i'm too scared to try.

"just do it, scaredy cat," the voice inside my head says. i try to ignore it, but i end up cutting myself anyway.

with my wrist laid down on the kitchen counter with no one around, i place the blade vertically on the top of my wrist, lined up with a vein, and slice and deep as i can go.

i've been thinking for some time, combined with crying and wanting to punch my face in, what would seriously happen if i tried to kill myself? the only thing i'm really and truly afraid of is that i fail. everyone would hear about it if i fail, (even if it works, too).

the room is filled with utter silence, and i debate using a knife instead of this blade between my fingers. but i'm too scared.

i look at the knife and i pick it up. i try just slashing it across my wrist, but my hand won't let me. my brain won't let me. maybe next time.

the blood comes out at a rapid pace when it's cut against my vein, which scares me a little. god, i need to stop being such a scaredy-cat.

i stand alone, cutting into my wrist, reminiscing of old times over and over again when i wasn't like this. when i was happy.

i was probably about 15 or 16, and i remember i would hang out with this group of friends. we would hang out all the time, just going out and doing what teenaged boys did.

there was this one boy in the group who was very alike me, his name was ben. he wore the same type of clothes i did; grungy, skateboard boy wear. he had these beautiful blue eyes that lit up the entire room when he entered it. his hair was brown, fluffy.

we hooked up with no strings attached bi-weekly. none of the boys in my friend group ever knew. i remember he was really sad, and i didn't know what to do. i was only young, and i'd never experienced sadness quite myself.