Get Well Soon

Finally Free

It was a rainy day in Lucis, much to Prompto's content. He liked the rain, and loved to watch the storms from his bedroom window. He didn't just like it because he thought it was pretty though, he liked it because it seemed to match how he felt on the inside perfectly. The dreary ness and hopelessness the atmosphere seemed to give most people was exactly what the blonde haired teen felt everyday of his life.

His father had abandoned him and his mother once he learned she was pregnant. Prompto had never met his father, nor would he particularly care to. The man, from what his mother had told him, was selfish and arrogant. But, that was coming from the queen of those traits herself.

Prompto's mother was a business woman. She was rarely home, and often left Prompto on his own for days at a time. This led the boy to be more independent than most other kids his age. His mother also didn't do anything if it didn't benefit her, and if someone tried to argue with her, she would always continue until the other person backed down.

Prompto hadn't exactly had any special bonding time with his mother either, when she was home. Often it consisted of her telling Prompto he was useless and that she wished she had never had him. When she wasn't degrading or downright insulting her son, she was either working, or finding a man to fill her bed for the night.

Prompto shuddered at the thought of the last encounter he had with his mother. It had been just a day ago, and yet, he already dreaded her return later that week. She actually got violent this time and went so far as to throw a vase at Prompto, slicing open his cheek.

Prompto ran his finger over the scab, remembering the stinging pain he felt when it first occurred. He didn't have to worry about covering it up for school, because they had just let out for a four day break, much to Prompto's dismay.

At the thought of being in this grimy, run down, apartment, alone, for 4 days with no excuse to leave, Prompto's eyes began to water. He was being yelled at constantly, by his mother for simply being alive, by his teacher for falling asleep in class, by his manager for not being friendly enough, etc.

Prompto remembered why he had to get a job in the first place. His mother had told him that she would stop sending money to him, since he was 15 at the time and was old enough to get a job. The problem was, the jobs a 15 year old is allowed to have, don't pay enough to allow someone to live comfortably on their own. He barely has enough to pay rent, so he sometimes has to live off of change he collects selling photos.

That's one thing Prompto genuinely enjoys nowadays. Photography. It has taught him to capture every memory because that way, they can last a lifetime. His favorite kinds of pictures were ones of animals, usually birds, or domestic cats, but every now and then he'd get a great shot of a vibrantly colored butterfly.

Prompto's gaze fell to his forearm as thoughts of previous nights like this one, flooded back into his head. He remembered the first time, and how distressed he had been. His mother had just left, slamming the door behind him, after decimating Prompto's self esteem. Prompto laid on the floor of the bathroom he had locked himself in, and started to cry.

"Why? Why doesn't my mom love me?" he sobbed, tears dripping from his face onto the stained tile below.

Thoughts started to invade his head that answered his question.

You're so god damn useless. No one will ever care about you.

You ruined your mom's life. She can't live the life she wants to with a kid at home.

You're a waste of space and oxygen. You shouldn't be alive!

That last thought resonated with him. Maybe it's right. Maybe he shouldn't. He got up off the floor and found the razor he bought to shave with. He couldn't have any sort of facial hair at his new job, so he had to go buy shaving supplies.

He picked up the straight razor, and looked at himself in the mirror. He had heard of people doing this, and they claimed it made them hurt less. Prompto decided it was time to see if they were telling the truth.

An elongated groan of pain escaped Prompto's mouth as he slid the blade over his pale wrist. The sensation that hit him after the initial cut, was like he could feel the sadness and worry leave his body as blood started to flow. He watched, almost in awe, as the crimson liquid started to drip from his wrist into the sink below. He watched as the blood, his blood, disappeared down the drain. The feeling he felt at that moment, was the best one he'd felt in years. Needless to say, it wasn't the last time he would do that.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Prompto decided he would repeat the action again. As he walked to the bathroom, he looked down at his arm and looked at the scars that littered his small wrist, some being thicker than others. Each brought back a memory and pain associated with said memory.

As he reached the bathroom, he basically lept for the razor, inwardly crying out for the escape it provided. He slid it over his wrist, watching his blood seep out, but he didn't feel any better. Why didn't it work? It always works. Maybe he needed to do more this time.

He continued to make more and more cuts until he finally felt the familiar sensation he craved. He looked at his arm to see that he had made 6 new cuts and each of them were dripping with blood. He usually would attempt to cover them with a bandage or at least, clean the wound in the sink, but before he could reach for anything, the world started to spin.

He attempted to grab the wall behind him, but lost his footing and slipped on the tile floor, sending him crashing to the ground. His world started to become hazy, as more and more blood continued to leave his body. He tried once again to regain control, but couldn't even life his arms more than an inch off the ground.

"So this is it?" he asks himself.

He wasn't scared, or even regretful, but instead had a smile plastered onto his face. He was finally free of his mother and this hell he called life. He didn't have to wonder if he had enougb money to buy food, he didn't have to live in fear of abuse anymore, he was gone, and for the first time in a while, a genuine smile appeared on Prompto's face.