It was a cold, bitter morning. The silence of the night ceasing to rest. His body was tense, shaking from the previous nights gruesome encounters. It had been weeks, hell, months since he'd experienced such anguish. The lack of joy, humor, of everlasting ecstasy seemed to be the only things to cross his mind. He was lost, and quite frankly, alone.
A high-pitched screech vibrated his eardrums as his eyelids parted. The young boy sighed, unsure if he was relieved, or horrified that he had still been alive. He adjusted his weight to his side, rolling onto his good arm and grasping the pillow from the opposite side of the bed, squeezing it against his chest.
"I don't deserve to be alive.." he muttered to himself as his legs began to tremble.
This was a typical morning for Kenneth McCormick, though he did not much like admitting it. The blonde had tried it again. No, not for a second time, but leaning towards the hundredth time. And it had succeeded, yet failed... As it always had. He was still alive, the same as he had been the night before but with another scar to show. On a normal occasion you would think the cold steel of a kitchen knife being wedged in between your set of costae verae and piercing the lining of your heart would be the end of your dreadful life, but for the young McCormick teen, it was a different story. It wasn't enough, nor had it been the several other occasions he had tried this form of suicide in itself. He was sick, tired of this hell that he was forced into believing was life.
"Get your ass out of bed, you lazy piece of scum!"
The low vibrations of a large object hitting his frail door was enough to get Kenny to scramble out of bed once again. The dirty blonde's feeble fingers slithered down his bony structure, from his protruding ribcage to his defined hipbones. How long has it been since I ate? The meager boy asked himself in thought as he reached the lining of his navy-blue boxer briefs. A couple weeks? A month? Two? Kenny sighed. There was no way he was going to school today, though it wasn't like he went all too often anyway since he hit high-school.
The melancholy teenager trudged toward his closet, the smashed pine door hanging from its hinges. His unsteady fingers clenched his battered orange parka from the floor. The same exact orange parka he had worn since the third grade. Luckily for him, he hadn't grown all too much taller, though his frame was much attenuated. His family wouldn't have been able to afford a new one, nor would they have wanted to buy him one anyway. Kenny slid the coat onto the bare skin of his arms, shivering as the cold fabric brushed against his spine. I don't know if I can control myself much longer. His thoughts began to rupture his sanity once more. I need out.. Now. The blonde nearly collapsed as he was swept with a wave of emotion, his knees growing weak under his light weight. F-fuck.. The boy quickly snatched his torn jeans from the floor, struggling to get into them fast enough. Before he could stop himself, he was running. Out of his bedroom, through the hallway, down the stairs, and out into the cold, dense morning air.