Jefferson Lake (MBBF Spin-Off)

Chap. 42

Burden.

My eyes swept the counter. They'd practically moved into the Master bathroom here, Parker and Emily's stuff sprawled out across the countertop.

Baggage.

Emily's hairdryer was still plugged into the wall, and I reached over and unplugged it to help save some electricity. Saving the Earth one step at a time.

Failure.

I glanced over at the other sink, the bathroom containing a His and Her side.

My eyes fell on the other apparatus plugged into the wall. It was Parker's razor. He used an electric razor, which was currently resting on it's charging station over on the side of the counter.

And then I saw what was sitting right in front of me, next to the bar of soap.

Can't even attempt suicide right.

I stood in the Master bathroom, my hands braced against the counter.

Breathe Lee. Just breathe.

The razor was right in front of me, but I tried not to stare at it.

I'm stronger than that.

I needed to get out of this bathroom, but I couldn't seem to get my brain and my feet on the same page.

The longer I stand here, the greater the temptation becomes.

Good for nothing.

I reached up under my bracelets for my rubber band.

My skin was tender and slightly bruised at the area surrounding the rubber band, but it had to be better than this. Anything had to better than this.

I snapped the rubber band against my sensitive skin, wincing at the pain.

Burden. Baggage. Failure.

It still didn't help much.

I closed my eyes, removing the razor from my line of vision as I tried to control my breathing.

Can't even attempt suicide right.

It almost worked, but the voices inside my head were too loud for me to ignore.

I heard the clinking of pans out in the kitchen, the sound of someone cooking.

They were just a few feet away.

You're stronger than this Lee.

I tore my gaze away from the razor, curling my hands into fists as I took a step away from the counter.

You're stronger than this.

I walked over to the bathroom door, fumbling with the lock for a moment before opening it.

Burden.

My breathing was ragged as I clung to the doorway, the temptation to turn around almost crippling.

Baggage.

Just one time to release the pain. Then I wouldn't have to keep fighting this. I wouldn't have to keep coming back to this.

Failure.

And for a second, I almost believed myself.

But I knew it wouldn't be just one time. And I knew that the pain would still be there.

I can do this.

I closed the bathroom door behind me, having the urge to crumple right there in the Master bedroom.