Dark Silences

Two.

Clutching my head, I sat up and groaned. I attempted to brush the dry blood off of me, but it wouldn't budge. Pounding against my ribcage, my heart crashed on, a sore reminder that I was alive.

I wish it would just stop.

God, if you're real, please listen. If the stories are true, and you can do anything, please kill me. Please. Please.

Just take me down to hell. Trust me, I'm already nearly there. I have been for a long time. It's all I want just to fade away. Drown in my own misery.

Let it slowly choke me. Let it take over me. Let it bury me. Let it bleed out my pain.

Whatever. I need to get ready for my dad picking me up.

Hauling my heavy, cut body up, I groaned. Using my hands and legs, I crawled up the stairs into the attic. I'd lived in the attic for about three years now.

It was filled with cobwebs, blood and broken glass. The windows had no glass in them. All there was was a mattress in the corner with a thin sheet on it.

Dad says I'm lucky to have such a great room. No other teenagers get rooms as amazing as this. But deep down, I wish that maybe I had a phone or a TV.

Please don't tell my dad I told you that.

Carefully, I pulled out my pride and only source of joy in my life out of a cardboard box in the corner. A small, dusty guitar that spent it's life tucked away where my parents couldn't find it.

If they found it, I'd never get it back.

Strumming the keys gently, I hummed a little. Playing the guitar and singing was the only thing that stopped me from killing myself.

I'd never got lessons in music, and I've only heard the old eighties music my dad listens to. The last time I left the house was maybe three years ago. Dad says there's no point in leaving anyway.

I've never been to school, just been home schooled. I'm not sure really if I'm clever. In my entire life, I've never met another fifteen year old.

Standing up, I went to go and look out of the window to see if there was any sign of my dad. Nothing.

That's a bit worrying... He should definitely be here by now. It's okay... He'll be here. Yeah, he'll be here.

Hopefully. Probably. Maybe.