Trigger warning! This chapter contains the following:
Burning/self-harm
Drinking
If you are uncomfortable reading this please click out now <3
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Wilbur's POV:
I hate London so much. It's awful, and I want to move. The dread of staying here is too much. I tilt my head back and lean against a wall. Then I slid down it, maybe I should move to Brighton. As I'm thinking, I roll up my sleeves to reveal several burn scars and new wounds. I can feel a tingling sensation in my arm. My fingers gently feel the recent wounds, I occasionally wince at the pain.
I pull out my lighter, it turns on with a satisfying 'click'. I watch as the flame dances with a small glow, I bring it close to my arm and shut my eyes. The flame hurts, god it hurts but I always go back for more. Pain is a strange addiction, it hurts but I love it.
When I reopen my eyes I'm met with a few new wounds, these will turn out as great scars. I flick the lighter shut and slip it into my pocket. Slowly, I stand up from the wall and walk over to my fridge. Not much inside it, mostly water, a bit of food to keep me alive and alcohol.
I pull out the largest bottle that I have, vodka. The lid comes off very easily, then I'm hit with that familiar aroma. I take a small sip, it tingles and burns the back of my throat but I can't get enough.
Sip after sip, I feel more drunk every second, my vision blurs slightly but I keep drinking. Drinking, drinking, drinking. Then my vision fades to black. I wake up, my head is pounding. How am I alive? That's odd, I drank the whole bottle I should be nearly dead. This won't be a fun hangover tomorrow.
I drag my limp body up the stairs to my room. Climbing into bed and pulling the covers over my head. My vision fades once more.
"I need to move to Brighton.." I whisper as I drift off once more.
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357 words
No a/n because I'm quite tired lol
Stay safe and keep yourselves alive please, I love you <3