ecstasy. || jeffmads (DISCONTINUED)

|chapter 7|

TW: Depiction of self harm, proceed with caution.

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When I got home, I couldn't look at or speak to anyone. I went straight to my room and slammed the door behind me, locking it like I always did. I sat on the end of my bed, my head in my hands. I felt strange. I felt frustrated, angry, upset and like the biggest idiot on the planet. What the hell had I done? Dolley had probably considered me a friend. She probably thought I was great. She was always so nice to me and what did I give her in return? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I didn't smile at her the way she smiled at me. I didn't talk to her the way she talked to me. I left her alone when I was running from my own problems. Then I watched her get degraded by another guy. Now I'd really done it. If it wasn't for Thomas, she could've been badly hurt. And what would I do? Nothing.

Thomas probably thought I was pathetic. Hah. So much for trying to make a good impression of myself. Instead I'd proved just how much of a coward, fool and terrible friend I was. If that was how I portrayed myself on the first day we met, it was probably how he'd see me forever onwards.

I asked myself why. Why? Why was I such a fuck up about every little thing I did? Why was I so awkward all the time? Why couldn't I be normal? Why couldn't I speak and smile and laugh like I was supposed to? Not a surprise I didn't have any friends. I didn't... then I did... then I didn't.

I felt strange. I felt as if I was going to cry, but I couldn't. Not that I didn't want to... I couldn't. My heart was beating fast and I began to feel numb, as if my body was trying to prepare me for what I was about to do. I stood up and went to the drawer, pulling it out. I proceeded to the bathroom and shut the door, standing in front of the mirror. I looked at myself then I looked down at it. I hadn't used it since a month earlier, but I felt I had no choice. I put it on the sink and pulled up my left jacket sleeve. I looked at my wrist and saw my  previous scars. I wasn't about to do this again. But still I was. I picked it up and pressed it to my dark skin. I took a deep breath.

"Fuck me." I named the first one.

"Fuck school." I named the second one.

"Fuck life." I named the third one.

And then, I dropped it and watched how the crimson colour dotted the sink below my wrist. I shivered, but I didn't cry. It hurt but it felt right at the same time. A few minutes passed and nothing happened. I decided to let it be. I was probably just so used to it that it seemed normal. I opened the hot tap and let the warm water run over my wrist. It stung, but I didn't care. I'd rather hurt myself than anyone else who didn't deserve it. Once I was done, I picked it up and took a deep breath before leaving the bathroom. As I walked out, I noticed there was a folded piece of paper that had been slid under my door. That was weird, I thought. I went to put the object in my hand back where it was, in the drawer, and then I went back and picked up the piece of paper.

Junior, just read it.

I knew that handwriting. Ambrose. What the hell did he want? I unfolded it hesitantly, it read:

I figured you'd read this cuz you don't pick up ya fuckin phone. For what reason, I ain't know. Me n the Taylors saw the way you stormed in when you got home this aft – it ain't yo usual temper. I know you hate just about every one of us but you should come talk to us, k. Don't even think about refusing, it ain't a question. You stubborn as shit but look, we still care about yo ass. We'll be in my room n look iss just between u n the 3 of us. Aight. Seeya. And we'd better. Fuckin bitch.

Well that was nice. Why the hell did they want to talk to me now when all my life they'd never made such a proposal? It wasn't like they worried about me or anything. And this damn note made me seem like a little kid. I was seventeen for hell's sake. I was almost a man. I didn't need them checking up on me like this. I didn't want them in my personal life as if they gave a damn. They had their own lives to focus on. I tutted and threw the note on my dressing table. I might as well get this over and done with.