so i kinda haven't been putting trigger warnings lately, so i guess i should put one now.
trigger warning: if you get triggered by abuse, family deaths, guilty feelings, mentions of self-harm and whatnot, then i strongly advise you not to read this.
and ooh. i have readers in france, the netherIands, and sweden
"Nico," Bianca started. "I'm sorry for everything."
She came and put her arms around me. I was surprised; Bianca rarely hugged me. And the next thing I knew, I was being put into an inescapable chokehold.
"Did you really think I was sorry about anything? And don't think that I don't know what all you've been doing behind my back.
"You're just a nasty brat who thinks the popular Will Solace actually likes you, much less love you. He doesn't want to be with you. That much is clear to anyone. So let him be. If you truly love him, then leave him alone. He doesn't need his reputation to be tarnished by some faggot such as you."
"If he doesn't want to be with me, then why is he still with me," I retort, knowing I would regret saying what I had just said.
"Because he pities you. All he sees you as is a charity case. A weak, lame, pathetic loser, who can't deal with his problems. You don't deserve to live."
I knew she was right. I didn't deserve to live. I was just a waste of space; Will probably despised me as much as I hated myself.
"It's all your fault," she hissed. "All of it. The state our mother's in, the state our father's in, the state I'm in... all of it. If you had just done what she had told you to, and been an obedient little boy, then NONE OF THIS WOULD HAVE HAPPENED."
I blink back tears and try to cover my ears. It was bad enough as it was, but when she started screaming at me...
She took a deep breath and clenched her fist. I looked up into her eyes. She had a look of venom in them, with more animosity than anything else.
She grabbed my arm, and started raking her fingernails down them.
| /\/\ |? /-\ ( 1
Scars. It was the only way to describe my hand. There were so many scars, from so many different things. Scars from abuse. Scars from self-harm. Scars from life. Scars from death. Those scars, no matter how bad they were, were nothing compared to the mental and emotional scars placed on me. Hate runs deep, you know, and Bianca's had quite the impact.
Being alone with myself and a knife... it gave me a sense of control. A feeling I longed for, every second of my dreadful, fractured life. It gave me a sense of freedom.
Will never knew, and never found out. Not until it was too late, at least.
gah. this was so bad. i wrote this at like, five, in the morning, and i have no idea what i was thinking.
how'd you like it, fellow solangelo obessors?
also, i'm not embracing the idea of self-harm, and neither am i encouraging it. but a mention of it was long overdue.
enjoy life while you can, fellow solangelo obsessors, and as always, stay obsessed.
and don't expect another update anytime soon. or ever, for that matter.
