Luca: It's not a suicide attempt, it just makes me feel better.Mature


Funny how your mood can go from ecstatic to murderous in the space of a few seconds, isn't it?

I slam into the house and Ben, sensibly, doesn't say a thing, letting me run up the stairs two at a time. My head rages with hurt, the way Gemme just... dismissed everything I've said, the fact I asked her to wipe out memories that made me a general fuckwit just for her, moving to a new town, changing everything I am for her benefit. All gone to waste in a few moments.

I'm not sure what I want, but I don't have to decide, because everything I need floats over to me as I stumble into the bedroom. I collapse on the floor with the drugs and curse my weakness as I mix up a spoonful of heroin, the belt from my bag tying itself around my arm as I fill the syringe. Ben pokes his head around the doorway and watches as I put the tip of the needle to my vein.

 "Shouldn't you still be chasing after her?" Benny asks. I look up at him, shaking slightly.

"Fuck off. You're the persuasive one, you go get her! She won't listen to me but you never know, if you give her that shoulder to cry on again, she might just listen to you!" I yell, stabbing the needle into my vein. As the blood reacts, I push the drug into my body and... fuck that feels good after so long.

I can't decide if Gemme would hate me even more for this or not. She was the one complaining about how me being happy isn't right, so fuck it. Let's get high and make my life living hell again. Ben leaves me to it and a moment later the door slams shut and I hear him calling after Gemme.

A few moments later, I feel sick. Leaving it a long time between heroin hits does that to me. It's usually only first timers that it happens to, but because my body heals itself, after a while it's like I'm a first timer all over again. So I haul myself into the bathroom and try not to throw up.

As I'm hugging the toilet and trying to stop my lunch resurfacing, I can see my razor from here. Tempting. I get a flash back of the time I tried to commit suicide a few years ago, when I discovered it was impossible to die. The cold blade tearing through my skin and muscle like it was nothing, the heat of my blood as it left me. It wasn't just when I tried to kill myself when I felt that, though. I'd been harming for a long time before that.

And even now I know I can't die, the urge to rip my own skin open and make myself hurt physically for once is overpowering. I reach up and grab my razor, pulling it apart by hand because it doesn't occur to me I can do it quicker with telekinesis. By the time I have the top blade out, my fingers are a bloodied mess and I'm refusing to let my body heal it.

The pain makes me smile and I find myself leaning against the bath as I dig the blade into my wrist, piercing the artery, tearing the muscle. My hand spasms and I grit my teeth, but I don't numb the pain.

Dear razor blade, it's been a long time. I missed you like I missed heroin.

I heal away the numbing effects of the drug and the pain in my arm becomes sharper, but, hell, it makes me feel better. Blood soaks my bare torso and the faded denim of my jeans and I laugh, drawing patterns in the red liquid with a finger. I'm high enough for this to feel like some sick kinda fun, but sober enough to want more.

Because I want it all to stop. The fighting, the struggle, the emotional pain I didn't even know could exist. It takes me a moment to realize that those are the kinda things a suicide case would say, but I worryingly don't care.

Is this another suicide attempt?

I don't think it is, but I can see why you might think it is. The gash in my wrist begins to clot and I pick it open again, making a similar slit on the thinner, darker vein just next to the artery. The sting of it makes me take a sharp breath, but I don't numb it. If anything I try to make it more intense.

I wonder where Ben is?

I wonder if he found Gemme before she could do something stupid. I wonder...

I push myself up, the razor falling out of my hand. I look down for it and see it in the pool of blood that I didn't even notice forming, but when I try to bend down to pick it back up, I feel sick all over again, and I end up just leaving it there. I want Gemme back. I shouldn't have yelled.

Staggering back to the bedroom, I look out the window, but I don't see anyone around. Well, I see a neighbour guy walking past, but not Gemme or Benny. I find my phone and dial Benny's number.

"Benny, where are you?" I moan into the microphone as he picks up.

"Looking for Gemme, because you're an incompetent fuckface," he growls down the phone. I wince slightly at his tone.

"Where is she, Benny? I want her back. Tell her I'm sorry," I can't keep the whine out of my voice as I feel faint and the world begins to spin. I don't heal that away either. I want the pain. I want to hurt, I want to distract from the mind numbing agony inside my head that Gemme's words caused.  

"I know you want her back. Why d'ya think I'm looking for her?" he snaps and I flinch at his tone again.

"'Cause I know you like her," I mumble, turning away from the window. Some guy just left his key in the ignition of a Mercedes and disappeared inside his house. I want a car. There's one right there, just begging to be stolen. Perfect.

"Yeah, and you like her more. In fact, you love her. And for some inexplicable reason I know she loves you too," I can hear the unspoken accusation of my not-so-loving behaviour in his voice.

"I haven't hurt her, I wouldn't," but I know that's not true. ‘Cause she wouldn't have run off like that if I hadn't hurt her. Benny sighs and hangs up as I reach the front door. With a groan, I make the world stop spinning long enough for me to get inside the car. The driver yells at me, racing up to me and I don't hit the gas pedal quick enough, ‘cause the next thing I know, he's yelling at me through the window and I'm getting ready to punch him.

"I need to borrow it! I'll bring it back, I swear," unless I crash it.

"But you're covered in blood!" the man exclaims, disgusted that I'm getting it all over his leather interior.

"At least it's mine and not someone else's," I mutter, driving off, not giving him a chance to argue with me anymore.

I end up driving not very fast, because the road keeps twisting even though it's straight and it's taking way too much effort to keep the car moving at all. I don't wanna heal myself. I don't want the pain to leave me.

I don't want to lose Gemme, either.

So I heal myself enough to drive without crashing or throwing up.

For some reason, I'm drawn to the park. Some inexplicable urge pushed me in that direction, and I'm hardly in any state to argue with that.

I stumble out of the car and wander into the park, following my instinctive urge over to the trees.

"Gemme?" I call out, "Gemme? Ahh! Fuck!" I yell as my face and the ground collide. Now I'm covered in grass as well as blood. Joy. My nose hurts, now.

Rolling over I look up and... a couple of trees over I see Gemme.

The End

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