Chapter Seven:

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Ashton's P.O.V:

I watched as the blood trickled out in clots. It had never bleed this bad before, ever. I hadn't even gone that deep, anyway. Or so I thought.

I guess I was in a completely different world. I hadn't even realized what I was doing.

But the blood kept coming. I quickly put it under the faucet, and by now I was panicking.

I watched the blood wash away, and fall down the drain.

But it continued to bleed.

I was frightened beyond measures at this point.

I wrapped it in a bandage, tight as possible. Hoping for the best.

But that didn't work either. I had screwed up. Again.

I felt weak, and dizzy. I couldn't catch myself from falling to the bathroom floor. A puddle of blood beneath me.

I watched as I lost consciousness, and my eyes shut, slowly, but surely.

Then my heart stop beating.

I was dead.

--

I jumped up, grasping for breath. Heaving, I stood, and ran to the bathroom.

I turned the knob to the sink, and held my hands under it's cold leaking liquid. I splashed my face a couple of times before, I looked up.

My reflection was horrid. Large gray bags laid just under my eyes, and my skin was pale.

I felt goosebumps covering my body.

I had been having these nightmares for weeks now. And I didn't know how to control hem.

I finally had regained a steady breath, and I walked back to my bedroom.

I was so glad, that I had decided to come home instead of  staying at Evee's. I would have worried her sick, if I would have pulled this shit at her house. She would have definitely found out my little secret.

I entered the room, and the cold air brushed my skin.

There was no way in hell I was going to be able to fall back to sleep. So I continued to work on her birthday present.

I was writing Evee a song. With Calum's help of course. He had wrote the beginning verse, but I had thought up the chorus a bit back ago.

I was laying in bed, and thinking of Evee, and suddenly this idea popped in my head.

I thought of her laugh, and her eyes. Her humor, and her small snores. And everything I loved about her. And I wrote.

It made me feel better, about my issues.

When I realized, I had absolutely no idea, what to get her for her birthday, I decided to give her this song.

I figured she'd like it. Hopefully.

I played a few chords on the piano, and started to sing.

I made it halfway through, and stopped.

'Who the fuck am I kidding. She is going to hate this.'

I gave up, before the tears started to form in my eyes.

'Ashton, why are you such a fuck up?'

I grabbed at my wrists, gripping them tightly. Pain surged through my arms. But I deserved it.

Blood started leaking from my latest cuts.

I had only 'harmed' myself twice this week. Which was much better than my usual four times a week.

I'm really bad, I know. But...

I deserved the pain, and the hurt.

I.

Deserved.

This.

The kitchen was dark, and I frankly, have terrible vision in the night. So I ended up running into the counter, causing my hip to immediately bruise as I made my way to the light-switch.

"Shit," I cursed under my breath, feeling the soreness in my hip. I looked down, to see more scars. Old faded ones. I hadn't cut there in a while.

I flipped the switch, after I had found it, and washed away my leaks under the faucet water.

I sighed, and made myself a class of tea.

After I did so,  I walked to the living room, and sat, flipping the television to the news.

Reports of house fires, and kidnappings flushed the screen.

The news always frightened me, so I flipped it to the next channel. Which was a shopping network.

QVC.

I watched as the woman on the screen held up a locket. It was silver, and encrusted with diamonds. It came in a few different designs.

Including initials. I watched as she showed off the jewelry, and then a number popped across the screen.

And for some reason, I was so intrigued with the accessory, I picked up my phone and dialed it.

"Um, hello. Yes? I would like to order the Silverman's Encrusted Locket, please. Designed with an E."

The man on the other end told me more details, and luckily, her gift would be here before her birthday.

Or at least, it was planned to.

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