* Note * Thank you for the reviews! They mean SOO much to me!
"Shit," I muttered when I saw the blood dripping to the floor on my wrist. It formed a small puddle on top of the ripped posters and broken plastic. The tears were beginning to fade away, and for a moment, it felt like all my worries had gone away. But only for a moment… The wound was starting to sting now, and I almost couldn't take the pain. Although, I deserved the pain. I'd done so much wrong in my life, and I'd never gotten the punishment I'd always deserved. This was it. No one ever dared hurting me. If no one's going to do it, then why not myself?
I stared at the red line for a moment before holding it with my right hand. This decreased the pain, but it was still bleeding. Not a lot, though. I got up and walked into my dark bathroom, and turned on the light with my elbow. I took a good look at myself in the mirror. There was a permanent frown on my face, and my face was wet from all my crying. Part of my arm was covered with blood. I turned on the sink and washed my arm off with lukewarm water. There was still blood coming out, but not as much as before. I took out a black washcloth from the cabinet to the right of me and pressed firmly on the cleaned wound. My body felt weak, and I fell down to the ground, and I cried until I fell asleep.
All night, I dreamed about Fitz and I. It was last night all over again. I'd woken up several times during the night, finding myself still crying. Everytime I woke up. I'd never felt this way before. Not once. Not after my mom leaving… after I'd gotten bullied as a child… Not even after Julia's death. After last night, I've come to realize what a horrible person I am. I never thought of how many things I'd done wrong in my life. Maybe almost getting stabbed was a good thing.
The more I though about it, the more I believed it.
And for a brief moment I wished Fitz had actually stabbed me.
"Eli!" My father called, distracting my thoughts. "Get your ass up!" I could smell the burnt bacon from in my room. He was making breakfast. A horrible breakfast. I don't think I'd ever eaten something good from him. He made cereal taste bad. Cereal!
I got up, and stretched my body. The first thing I did was check the time. Ten-forty-two. Crap. My dad hated it when I slept past eight-thirty. He said it wasn't good for me to get into bad habits like that. What did he know about bad habits, anyway? He slept around with different girls every week. Him and Mom never even got divorced. She left for a job, and he refused to go. And I stayed with him. But of course, back then, he wasn't such a jerk. Ever since I started going to Degrassi, he's been acting like this.
I got dressed, putting on a pair of jeans and black t-shirt. Seeing the scar I'd made from last night made me feel weak inside. I put on a black hoodie, and it covered the red mark very well. Dad would beat the crap out of me if he ever found out I did that to myself.
I washed my face, and then cleaned up the mess I made last night. At least Dad wouldn't see this. I still didn't know what I was going to say when he saw my room poster-less, though. Maybe he'd believe that I'd given them to Adam.
"Finally," Dad grunted as I walked through the hallway, into the living room, and then to the kitchen. "Eat your damn breakfast." He shoved the plate into my face, and his breath made me want to puke. It smelled of booze and cigarettes. I hated those two scents, so much. Especially when they were mixed together like that. I guess I should be used to it now. He spent the majority of his money on two things: alcohol and cigarettes. I would probably have to get a job, to pay for my food, my clothes, and my everything.
"Thanks," I mumbled.
"Speak louder, Son," he ordered.
"Sorry," I said louder, almost yelling. "And thanks."
"Much better," he smiled to himself.
I glared at him once he turned his back to me. He went to watch TV. This was his normal Saturday behavior. Until tonight, that is. He went to the bar every Friday and Saturday night. Usually got drunk and took a girl who was closer to my age than his. I wanted to tell Mom, but what would Dad do if I did that?
I wasn't going to find out.
I spend the rest of my day in my room, doing… well nothing. Nothing besides staring at the wall, curled up in a ball, drowning in my tears. I felt so much pain, so much fear, but yet, so much nothing. I sat up, and opened the drawer of my desk. Inside there was a box. It was filled of the broken CDs. I took one out and before I let myself cry anymore, I cut myself, deeper than last night as I held back the tears.
This was the only thing that would relieve the pain, the only thing that would make me feel human again. The feeling of watching the blood gush out of my body felt like my problems flooding away. It was probably one of the best feelings I could ever feel.
And for a few seconds, I felt like Eli again.