texts || discontinued

seven

𝙉𝙚𝙬𝙩

Meds. Anti depressants. Anything to make his brain semi-normal again. Not that it worked. He also needed friends, love and care for that.

But he had Thomas. Had Thomas. Of course he just thought Newt was weird like everyone else did.

It's normal for him not to be liked, so why this time did it hurt so much?

So now Thomas is out of the picture. He just needs some love, to not feel like pure crap. He should have been left to die a painful death, he wanted to feel pain. He liked putting pain on himself because it gives him control.

He emptied the small amount left in the bottle into his palm. Each one tumbled into the creases of his upturned hand. He stared at the pills, counting two of them, before putting the rest back in the bottle.

Newt looked at himself in the mirror. His stomach and shoulders bearer purple bruises, and his neck was slightly dark around the back. He remembers the exact words his mother said to him nearly eight years ago: "They're just picking on you, they'll go away soon."

Yes, seven and a half years is very soon indeed, he thought to himself.

Newt remembered when they first hit him in the face, when he was 9. It was three days after they started picking on him. He remembered how much it stung. Recently, it hasn't hurt so much. Maybe he's getting stronger, maybe they're becoming weak. That's what he hoped. But he knew it was just because he was used to it, that it didn't hurt anymore.

Newt looked down at his pills, tipping his head to one side. He wished that he could maybe choke on them that way, but he knew it wouldn't happen.

He was hoping that having five times the maximum amount would result in an untimely unfortunate overdose, but he'd probably go to hospital and get told to be put in a asylum or something.

"Newt, sweetie, have you taken your meds?" His mother shouted up from the room below.

"Yeah," Newt raised his handing, placing all eleven pills in his mouth. "We're gonna need some more though. We've ran out."

Newt pulled a random shirt out of his draws, pulling it over his head. He left his sweatpants on, making no effort whatsoever. He looked at his black eye in the mirror, trying to think about the positives.

The purple and blue really compliments my.. complexion. Oh fuck it. He let out a groan as he walked over to his bed.

Newt picked up his phone.

Thomas Greene: Newt please talk to me :/

Letting out a sigh, the boy collapsed onto his bed, as it squeaked beneath him.

♥

Newton: what the fuck do you want?

Thomas Greene: I just wanna know what's wrong

Newton: thought you were smart
Newton: ya know, you can offend a lot of people with what you said the other night
Newton: you don't just insult someone who's attempted suicide
Newton: what if he didn't have the choice of where to fucking go
Newton: denver ain't a big town not a lot of y'all buildings
Newton: what if he hated everything and its comment like your comments which made him try commit suicide
Newton: WHAT IF I JUST WANTED TO DIE

Thomas Greene: it was you?
Thomas Greene: oh my god i feel so bad

Newton: good

Thomas: look newt im sorry, like for everything

*incoming call from Thomas*

Newt looked down at his phone in shock. He slowly pressed on accept, raising the phone to his ear.

"Newt?"

"Thomas why are you calling me? We agreed on texting."

"Awh you're accent is cute."

Newt scoffed. "Honestly mate. Tell me what you want or fuck off."

"Do you know where Emmy's Diner is?"

"Yeah why?"

♥

(sorry i havent updated in a month)

YO HAPPY LATE NEW YEAR! I hope you all have a lovely 2020 it's your year :)

but i fucked up already so 2021 is gonna be my year so cMoN wOOooOo