Hopeless? ~ Third Part of Loverboy.

Chapter 11. ~ Ashley.

After playing the russian roulette with Dionne several times, my mind was totally broken and exhausted. I didn't even have the minimum forces to maintain hope. I already had lost a war that never really started. 

I didn't eat. I didn't drink water. I didn't want to do anything, really. I just wanted a bullet to hit me right in the skull so I wouldn't have to deal with the reality I was living., 

I knew that Nathan hated me like hall, first because he thought I was ignoring me, and second because I ended our relationship. He kept saying he loved me—something that broke me more—, but I knew that deep down he was looking for any little thing to hate me to flourish within him. I knew he was hurt, and that was exactly what I didn't want it to happen: he's going through what I'm going through right now as well. It just was not fair. He didn't deserve it, and I'm quite sure that if somehow I get out of this, I will never be able to see him in the way I used to see him. I could never see him straight in the eyes without feeling a stab of guilt eating my body from the inside to the outside.

Maybe I deserved all the things that have happened to me for being so selfish and not thinking about the people around me. As Dionne says: I need to learn my lesson. 

I should've never played with Patrick's feelings, even if I know what kind of psychopath he is. He also has feelings, right? Same with Brad, the asshole who sold me his rapist best friend. I should've never used him to get over Nathan. You're such a fucking bitch. And with Dionne... Who knows, maybe if I weren't alive, if I hadn't interrupted her relationship with Nathan, they could both be really happy right now, planning their future life together and everything. 

If there is a place in this universe for me, that place is called Hell. 

I had to accept it. A part of me always knew that somehow I was meant to be dead, to not exist in this world. I was a catastrophic error in a tremendous level. And if that is my fate, why not accept it? 

I was the stumbling rock blocking the road to the perfect lives of those who encountered me. I was the spot in the rearview mirror of the almost blind driver. I was the cloud storm over the picnic of the people around me. 

I felt my arms, with the wounds Dionne had left open just a few hours ago. Every beat of my heart meant a pulsation in the wounds, a pulsation with which I expected my heart to stop beating completely to fulfill the destiny that I was assigned. Every square inch of my body was so tired and felt no longer pain, a pain I deserved very well. My chest rose and fell just out of my lung's necessity, not  just for the battle between life and death that we all carry in our bodies daily. 

I played in my head the most suicidal scenes I had gone throughout my life over and over to remind myself that this was all for a reason. I almost always had every other hallucination mixed with nightmares in which I commanded myself not to come back to reality, I had to fully experience them. 

—Is your head already fucked enough, sweetie? —Dionne asked as she entered the place where I was tied against my will. 

I looked at her with narrowed eyes. I tried to speak, but I knew I had whispered something nobody could understand, not even myself. 

Dionne laughed. —Look at the poor creature! You can't even talk! —She high-fived Patrick, who was smiling proudly—. Who knew that the bitch of Ashley Underwood had so little willpower. 

She was right. I was the most coward person that existed on the surface of the Earth.

With blurred and shaky vision, I noticed how Dionne grabbed her videocamera just so she continue filming my suffering. Perfect. I loved her way of being such a psycopath. Patrick was just standing in a corner, undressing me with his eyes and running his thumb over his lips as he did so. I got out of breath for a while.