evicted ➳ kryozgaming

seven ; painfully addicted

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this chapter might have a bit of a trigger warning, so just a bit of a warning. if you dont feel like reading then just don't read this one since it's gonna be kinda dark and depressing

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     "you're worthless"

     "you're good for nothing"

     "you'll never amount to anything in life."

     The words and insults echoed in my mind repeatedly. It happened over and over again. I huddled myself into the corner and curled up into a ball. Their tall and menacing shadow crept over my body and I shivered in fear. 

     "You think someone will ever love you?" The figure scoffed. "Not a fucking chance. You're worthless. There's absolutely nothing about you worth loving. You'll never be good at anything. You think your friends like you? You think that John loves you?"

      I didn't respond. I remained silent, quietly whimpering in the corner, not daring to look at the tall and foreboding figure. The figure scoffed once more. "Fucking typical. You're scared. No one loves you, (Y/N). You know that. You wanna know why your parents are dead, (Y/N)? Because they killed themselves."

      I whimpered more, I covered my ears with my hands and shook my head repeatedly. I begged him to stop. He could've hit me or tortured me to his heart's content, it wouldn't hurt as much as this.

     "Your parents never loved you, (Y/N). They hated you. They hated having you as their god-forsaken child. So they decided to run away. End it all. Get as far away as possible from you."

     I started screaming. I didn't know what else to do. I was helpless. Defenseless. Worthless. 

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     I woke up suddenly. Sweat and tears streaming down my face. I looked at John next to me. He grunted softly in his sleep. I didn't wake him. It was still dark out, I looked at the clock. 3 am. I sighed. I didn't want to go back to sleep. I got out of bed gently and grabbed my vape from the table as well as my phone. I longed for pain. I winced softly at the thought. I looked at the markers on the table. I took one and headed outside. 

     After opening the back door to the back yard, the cold air pierced my skin. I let out a shaky sigh and stepped outside. My bare feet made contact with the small concrete patio that laid just outside the house. It was cold against my skin. Winter in Washington was fucking cold. And I came out here in nothing but a crop top and shorts.

      I shivered a bit. I didn't want to go back inside. I inhaled my vape, the intoxicating smoke poured into my body and took over my mind like a poison that was so painfully addicting. I gazed at my skin. There were still scars from a long time ago. When I used to cut. I've been clean for a good three years. Thanks to John. I wasn't about to break that promise to him tonight. I inhaled sharply in the cold. I grabbed the marker and gazed at my arms and legs. 

     A while back I learned that as an alternative to self-harm I could draw on myself. So I did. I had thought about getting tattoos, but I wanted something that actually meant something. It depended on how I felt. When I felt unwanted, I would draw roses and thorns across my skin. When I felt lost, I'd draw patterns across my skin. Each emotion lead to a different drawing. They all meant something to me.