Something Real.5
Duración: 0:05
This is super short and boring, but there's a point to it I swear! Enjoyyy. -- By the time I finally get home that night, it's 7:18 and the house is completely empty because my parents are at dinner. I walk into the kitchen and read they note they left for me on the counter, saying they'd be home around 9:00 and to call if I needed anything. Not likely, I thought. After grabbing a cup and filling it with water, I quickly drink it all and then walk upstairs to my room. The first thing I do is turn my iPod on to "Take My Hand" by The Cab and throw my backpack down on the floor next to my bed, which I lay down on with my legs hanging off of the side. I think about Lexi, and all of the millions of times we've both laid in this exact position at one of our houses, blasting our music and ignoring our parents screaming and pounding on doors trying to get us to turn it down. I think about the hours long car rides to absolutely nowhere in particular, just to get out of the house and let the music take over completely. I wonder what song was on when she got hit by that car. I hope it was a good one. It's at this point that I realize I'm crying. I have no clue how long I've been up in my room, but I've heard at least four songs and my eyes are probably completely bloodshot. I bring one hand up to touch my face and it's soaking wet. I can't breathe easily anymore and my heart feels like it's going to pound out of my chest at any second. Every part of me is shaking. I'm trying my hardest to catch some breath, but I can't. My body is taking over and I feel so sick. I can't do this anymore, I think to myself. I have the worst pain in my head and I feel like I'm going to pass out. I need to drink water, but there's none in my room and theres no way I'm going to make it downstairs. I have no clue what to do. Twenty minutes later, once I've completely calmed down, I walk across my room and open the second drawer of my dresser. Ever so carefully, I dig through the stacks of shirts and reach toward the bottom of the piles for the object nobody knows I hide in there. When I feel it in my hands, I grab it out and walk back over to my bed. I know I shouldn't do this, I really do, but it helps a lot. I look down at the many scars on my left wrist. Without a second thought, I lower the knife down to my wrist.