Hm let's just say I wanted to let out some steam after having been called a few nasty names at school.
Title is taken from Car Radio by Twenty One Pilots.
Rolling hills and blurred movements. The car whizzed past, going 90 kilometers per hour as the engine purred loudly.
The sun was going down.
He slammed a knife down into his throat, spurring blood everywhere. Over his face, shirt and clean white tiles. He let the knife clattered to the floor and made a quick escape through the bathroom's window. Grabbing onto its ledge and swinging himself 4 feet down below the grassy patch; scraping his knees. He ran. Never once looked back. Leaving his lover's body behind, bleeding profusely and dead.
He snarled and slammed the gas pedal down even further, going way past the speed limit. Wanting to forget the past. If he could go fast enough, it'll erase the past. He's sure of it.
The car swerved around a sharp corner, engraving skid marks onto the asphalt road.
The car came to a stop and he rested his elbows on the steering wheel, tucking his head into them. He let out a quiet anguish sob and slowly it turned into a broken dam as he let out waves of tears, letting his emotions caught up with him.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry" he mumbled frantically.
He curled his fist and slam it down onto the window repeatedly and forcefully.
The window started splintering, cracks evident. One, two and three slams was all it took for the window to shatter and shards of broken glass cuts deeply into his expose skin; blood trickling down.
He smiled.
I deserve this, he thought. I deserve pain.
A piece of a broken shard in hand, he brought it down to his exposed neck and cut. A thin blood red line appeared.
He's not satisfied. He cut in deeper and gagged.
He's having a hard time trying to breathe, gasping for air, the feeling of being choked to death.
He fucking deserves this, he doesn't deserved to live. He's a waste of space, idiot, fag- a psychopath. Why was he ever born? Why did God think that he could achieve greater things in life? Have a nice little family? Job? He doesn't deserve any of this so he left. His thoughts are too loud, a jumbled mess like him.
He seek quiet.
Quiet is good,
But,
Quiet is violent.