I lay on the bathroom floor. Crying. A typical night. I dropped the bloody blade in my hand. I heard a tiny clink on the floor beside me. With tear filled eyes, I looked down at my legs. I saw the deep, crimson liquid rolling off the side of my leg. The warmth of the liquid made me shiver. I looked over at my right leg. Just two cuts. One was much deeper then all of the other ones. I my left thigh was different. Many long cuts, but not deep ones. I wiped my eyes and stood up. I grabbed a tissue out of the box on top of the counter, and started to clean up the blood. Most of it was already dried up, so none really came off. I grabbed another tissue and grabbed my blade from the floor and cleaned it and the floor where it was. I threw the tissues in the toilet. I looked in the mirror and all I could see was "negative"; fat, messy hair, and a face that needed cleaning. It was all true. I've always been engulfed in all of the "negative." I don't know what's wrong with that. If its true, it's true. I grabbed another tissue and cleaned under my eyes. I cleaned the water trails that ran towards the top of my chest. I was finally done cleaning which had seemed like hours. It was so routine, but it always seemed longer then the time before. I had relapsed; again. I've done it for so long. I knew that if I told anyone they'd either be mad, sad, or upset. I don't need, nor do I want to be held responsible for that. I've had people hit me because I've cut myself. Nothing has ever been the same since January.
A/N
I'm sorry this is so short. I'll try to update more often. I'll introduce the band shortly. I promise. Okay, continue on with your merry lives.
~Bree
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Crimson, Drugs, & Memories (Gerard Way fanfic)
Fanfiction15 year-old Ashley is tired of her life that isn't going anywhere good. Some people say that they believe in her but, everything in her says they're lies. When she runs away from her abusive dad, she meets 5 men. One of these, men seem to have a con...
