𝖊𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖊

𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊

back for another chapter, read, comment, vote, enjoy!

***

The next day, I was all alone in the house. There was a note on the kitchen counter, saying there was cereal in the pantry.

I slowly ate the cereal, making sure my stomach didn't disagree. It would take me awhile to get used to eating actual food. But until then, it was a war of wills between me and my stomach. It was the price to pay for sinning.

I eventually finished, not knowing what to do. I looked around to see the house was a bit messy. So I went to work and cleaned the countertops, made sure everything was organized and tidied up. I vacuumed the living room, fixed the tables and everything else. In an hour, I was done.

I looked at the clock; it was three in the afternoon. This was unnerving to say the least - to be able to have my own say in what I want to do, to not have my life controlled, to not be my mother's puppet.

I went upstairs to check my phone for any messages from my brothers - there was none. I debated on sending a message to one of them, but didn't at the end.

What to do, what to do. I guess I could explore my laptop. I ended up finding some websites that allowed you to make edits. The designs I came up with were okay to say in the vaguest way possible. Let's just say that they would never see the light of day.

My brothers still didn't come home yet. That or they were in another room, spying on me. Right, anyways, I ended up taking a shower. Hot water was a blessing that I would never take advantage of.

But seeing my reflection, seeing my body with its scar, its burns, the stabs, the words carved into it. Seeing my ribs, my bones, it was a wonder, a miracle I was still alive.

It was then I made a vow, to never look into the mirror again. I was disgusted by my appearance, and I never wanted to see it again.

I changed into a grey shirt with black jeans, ignoring the mirror, before entering my room. There was nothing to do.

So I lied down on my bed, staring at the ceiling, slipping to a faint coma as I usually did when oblivion caught up to me.

It was a few hours later did I wake up from my blackout, and yet no one still arrived. I wonder what they were doing.

I eventually went to the kitchen to drink a glass of water, the coolness shocking my body, refreshing me from the cage of heat. From the disturbance, the demons awakened, my nerves startling me, and I dropped the glass on the floor, cutting my foot, blood seeping on to the once pristine floor.

I knelt down and observed the glass. The glass was cracked into so many pieces, it could never be fixed. I'm like glass - the material. I have so many traumatizing moments and they're cracks. With too many cracks, the glass is broken, I'm broken. And you can't put the glass back together no matter how much you try, it just doesn't look right. What's broken can never be fixed.

Right, that's enough for today. I cleaned up the floor, and threw out the glass pieces. Finished, I stood up to have blood rush up to my head. I could feel myself blacking out, but I immediately grabbed on to the table counter, steadying myself, breathing slowly, willing my vision to return. Eventually it did.

This would be more difficult than I thought. To pretend I was fine, perfectly okay, when my mental health was ruined, when I was in a constant struggle with myself, not giving in, when my body was weakened. It was easier before when my mother didn't pay attention to me. My brothers, particularly Wilson, paid attention to me.

I had to calm down. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.

I'm in control, I'm in control. I have to be in control.