White. From every corner of the room, all was but a single color, and that color only meant failure.
Seemed that no matter what, I could never escape the brute of the hell which surrounded me day in and day out; capturing me, and soiling me into indefinite darkness. The excruciating pain of my heart emptying all out of what once was in my body, onto the paschal floor which spoke the name of the fake and wealthy, signaled my last ounce of hope breaking away. Decorative droplets of my anger, my heartache, my misery, my depression, scattered across the tiles in hard marks, thumb prints, and tears.
No one could see what was going on in my head, and when I reached for help, I was shunned away. I hated myself. I wanted happiness to knock on my door, and embrace me upon meeting face to face. But, that never happened. Everyone looked upon me as the conceited, shallow, good for nothing band boy who cared about nothing but himself. Well, they're right. I'm all they say of me. They heard me sing, but they never understood the lyrics like I did, what was put into it- the emotion and distress I was experiencing was the base to it all. When I would look at myself in the mirror in the morning and the way I would at night, shown two different worlds completely polar to one another.
Mornings, excitement never disappointed me, I was ready for the day, perfecting myself until I was satisfied. However, this would take longer than usual. I had to cover myself in a makeup of another face to ensure no one saw my night massacre. I grew out my hair so that when I got upset at myself for being stupid, if I hit my head on the wall, no one would notice the bruise that burned me of my self hate. Every morning I made myself believe this day will be better, and tomorrow, even better. Even after I ingrained those words into my skull, things never turned out right.
By night, I was beaten emotionally. I was restless, and constantly trying to sleep. After a few hours when the others are fast gone in their dreams, I'd get out of bed and sneak to the bathroom, and cry. That mirror mocked me of myself, discriminating me of my size, my personality, my face, my day's troubles, everything. Sometimes, when things got out of hand, I'd search for Mrs Knight's razor, and paint my skin red until the gut wrenching feel that suffocated me subsided.
No one suspected a thing.
During Winter, I'd mark up my arms, going deeper and deeper with each day, all hidden under my jacket. Come Spring, I would allow my arms to heal, but attack my thighs, cutting horrid things that would recollect my memory of how pathetic I am. Summer, I would slice up my abdomen, leaving my legs be. Fall, I would go for my arms again, as well as my legs. By the end of the year, I would have well over 1,700 new scars. At the beginning of a new, I would cry in furry at my stupidity.
As I faintly open my eyes, my head aches at the sudden shock of the light penetrating my lens. Once the world comes in focus, I slowly turn my head to my right, my sight landing upon Kendall. The brief glance of his sleeping form recollected all that happened that previous night. Tears broke out, streaming down my flushed cheeks. Images of the night previous impaled me, reminding me as to why I was here, in this room of white.
~12:30 PM, December 21, 2014~
"You know what James? We're done. I'm sick of your shit. Actually, I think we all are. Your lies, your manipulation. You don't think we can't see through your fake-ass stories? Get the fuck out." Kendall points towards the door of Rocque Records as he yells at me, his voice shaking with rage, and his eyes flooding with hurt.
'I did it again. I hurt him. I hurt everyone. God, I'm so fucking stupid! I can't do anything right!'
Without a word, I walk towards the door, stopping, and looking back once. My face was cold, but I smiled. Not out of sick hysterics, but because I came to conclusion. Finally, I made my decision.
"Fine. I'll leave. Could tell I wasn't wanted here anyway." I feel my heart rising to my throat, causing my voice to crack. With that, I left. No turning back now. No second thoughts or chances. It was out that I wasn't cared for, I wasn't loved. Not if everyone was pushing me away. First, I lose my mom. Second. my job. And third, the love of my life. I had no reason to stay, which only encouraged me more to lay down my gun, and rot away.
Since I didn't have a car, I walked back to the Palm Woods. Blood gushed into my ears, echoing as my head pounded. My face was pink, and I was just about at the breech of tears. Going through the entrance, all eyes were on me, narrowed, and full of disgust. News spreads too fast the for the greater good of anyone, Kendall must have told Jo and Camille, for they too joined the crowd of glares. My mouth went dry under pressure, and I hurry to the elevator, liquid now seeping out of hiding. I bite my lip, trying to hold in all the pressure that squeezed me to the point it became hard to breathe. The doors open, and I enter, facing the wall until the doors closed.
The moment I heard the slates of metal come together, I let go. Emotion overwhelmed me, anger scratching at my body until the white marks were joined by small beads of crimson. I convulsed violently, holding myself until I reached the floor of the band. The rest became blurry. I didn't recall opening the door to apartment 2J, and entering. My vision consisted of watery light, my throat tightening.
Enraged, I go throughout the apartment, wrecking all I laid my hands on. This went on for a few minutes, before I made way for the bathroom. I pulled out my phone, and click onto Kendall's contact. Then, I began what I wished to be my last message to anyone ever.
I love you. Goodbye, Kendall.
I drop my phone after I hit send, and all I hear is the crash as it breaks. Suddenly, everything goes silent. I find the razor, but don't retrieve my usual bandages. I slide down to the floor, and stare at the sharp tip for a while. It all leads down to this. Those years of dealing with the abuse of my father, the bullying at school, the constant mocking, and anger. It all ends here.
The blade is raised, and place above my wrist. Gritting my teeth, and I push down with as much force as I could, and slide the point up my arm. Instantly my arm is inflamed, blood gushing from the wound that I inflicted upon myself. 'Nobody loves you. You're a piece of trash.' I rip open my other arm, crying out at the intensity that caused bile to race up my throat. I lean over the toilet, and throw up, blood collecting on the side of the porcelain shitter.
It all goes blurry once more as darkness edges my vision. As the minutes went, my body grew weaker. But that weakness made me happy. It meant I was leaving. Leaving everything behind. I didn't mind that. But Kendall's face penetrates my mind as I thought I heard his voice, calling out my name. Seconds later, the door was being banged on, his voice echoing in my ears, panic written all over. At that point, I didn't have enough strength to listen. As my world goes black, the door is kicked down, and I'm being picked up my someone. My last source of vision tunneled around Kendall's teary-eyed, beautiful face. He was screaming, but I could no longer hear his voice above the ringing in my ears.
Under my breath, I whispered softly, only in ears of my love.
"I'm sorry."