utopia | fillie

pill to ease the pain

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in which ~ we discover that pills aren't always the best drug.
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millie's p.o.v.

that sure was a shit show.

after finn and i finished our coffee we left the diner right away. i was a mess, tear streaked cheeks, smudged makeup and a rats nest for hair. finn drove me home and i graciously thanked him, although i'm not too sure what exactly happened in that exchange, my mind was still hazy from what happened earlier.

finn told me that he loves me.

that thought sends butterflies through my stomach, but i quickly kill them all because what finn did to me, was wrong.

as soon as i walked through wyatt's front door, he was on me like a hawk.

"where've you been." he slurs, i guess he had a few drinks this morning.

"you forgot me at caleb's, you dumbass." i shoot him a smile, trying to lighten up this terrifying mood.

he smacks me straight across the face. "don't talk to me like that, bitch." wyatt spits.

guess that didn't lighten the mood.

he pushes my back against the wall, hitting me again and spitting in my face. my head bangs hard against the wall.

my cheek stings from the contact and my eyes begin to water. i can already tell that smack'll leave a mark. i stare at wyatt, in shock. his eyes menacing and cold. he has a still glare that's filled with alcohol.

when i knock some sense back into myself, i quickly run off to our bedroom, locking the door before my first tear falls.

my tears fall hard, it went from a slight drizzle, to a full on downpour. my body shakes and my cheeks sting.

i don't wish i was dead, but i do wish the pain would stop.

i repeat that thought to myself over and over, till i can speak it and have it roll off my tongue with ease. it's sure been a while since i thought about that.

i keep crying and shaking for what seems like a century. no knocks come from the door. no soft arms wrap around my trembling body and tell me that everything will be alright. nobody comes in and says that they're here for me, that they love me.

god i wish finn hadn't fucked up.

eventually i stop crying.

my body feels cold and dry. empty. i crawl over to wyatt's bed and slip under the heavy covers, feeling the soft blankets swaddle my icy body. i breath in deeply, trying to calm myself down. all i can smell is wyatt, it makes me fell sick. if i stay in this bed any longer, i think i might vomit. scratch that, i'm going to vomit.

i roll off the bed, rushing to the bathroom, in the bedroom, and i open the toilet, throwing up the coffee from this morning. as it comes up, it stings my throat. the strong caffeine mixing with the acids from my stomach, creating a lethal weapon.

wiping my mouth with a towel, i walk over to the bathtub, getting in. i turn the water on, burning hot, and sit there, fully clothed, in the tub.

i turn to the side, grabbing wyatt's razor and pulling out the blade.

i grimace, as i glide the sharp blade across my fragile wrist. the hot scarlet liquid, spills out, staining my clothes and mixing into the water. i don't stop there. i pull up my other sleeve and repeat the painful process. the calming sensation it sends through me causing my pulse to slow.