Tears spilled out of Ty's eyes as he ran to the bathroom, yanking the razor out of the draw.
He made one deep, painful cut, yet at the same time it felt like heaven. He knew it wouldn't really help anything ; but it still felt so good...like with that cut, the pain, the hurt and the memory washed away. He made another, and another...
-Ty's POV-
I smelled the smell of fresh blood, everywhere. By then I had made about 20 cuts, they were all oozing with the dark crimson liquid.
My face twisted as I continued to cry, half in pain from my arm, half in pain from my heart. I could hear my brother, Luke, thrashing about downstairs.
"Damn..." I muttered, making one final cut. "Does he ever stop drinking?"
I quickly ran over to the sink and ran my arm under the cold water. It stung my cuts, seeping into them. I winced at first, the relaxed into the cool, beckoning water.
Adam. That's all I could think about, like usual. Adam. My one true friend. The only person I truly care about. I looked up slowly at the mirror, which was still foggy from the last shower someone took. A used my sleeve to wipe away the thick coating, and stared at my ugly reflection. No wonder no one loves me. My hair hangs over my eyes. I'm such a emo. My headphones hung around my neck - why I always wore this, I don't know. Maybe it's because it's the one thing my parents left for me before they were murdered when I was young, leaving me with my brother, who had a bad habit of drinking.
I sighed and listened to him running around downstairs, crash after crash. Most likely, he would beat me up for 'knocking over the vases' in the morning, when he didn't remember anything and would blame me.
I closed my eyes tight, and all his insults flooded back. "Ya faggot, waist of breath. They should stop trying to save you, just let ya die."
"Why don't you cut deep enough to kill yourself one of these days, bitch?"
"Aw, come on. Let the bullies go. It's not their fault your such a failure."
My eyes stung. I couldn't help it as a broke down, I couldn't help but cry.
"A-Adam..." I whimpered. "I want Adam..."
I took a deep breath to control the sobs and turned off the cold water, rolling my sleeve down my arm. I looked back at the mirror, the small part I had cleared was already re-fogging over.
I took a deeper breath and let it trail out. I slowly raised my fingers to my hair and brushed it out of my eyes, my baggy sweatshirt brushing my cheek.
"You-You don't live in a movie, Tyler. I-It doesn't work like that. Your just a-a faggot." I murmured, touching my reflection with my finger tips.
Then...well, then I got mad. At Luke for everything he's done to me while he was drunken. At mom and dad for leaving me alone with him. For the bullies for the painful memories...and limbs.
And most of all, at myself. At my dirty, rotten, waist-of-air self.
I pulled back my fists and sent it flying into the mirror. Glass flew everywhere at it shattered into millions of pieces. I immediately pulled my arm back as a pain split through my palm. I looked down and saw the blood seeping through a large cut, which a shard of glass glinting from the lights. I squeezed my eyes closed and took it out, gasping with pain. I grabbed some toilet paper and wrapped it tightly around my cut.
"TYLER LOX?!" Luke hollered, slurring on each word from downstairs. "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!"
"Oh, that's perfect..." I muttered under my breath, bracing myself for another beating. Or worse.
Waist of air.