A Plea
-[7/8/2022 - ???, ???, United States]-
All I could do was stand there and take it.
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
I hate you.
"Where the fuck is it?"
So much…
I watched helplessly as hatred sparked in his eyes as his anger consumed him and took a more physical option to the situation.
"WHERE THE HELL IS IT!?"
I hate you so fucking much…
His arms first gripped the nightstand besides my bed and slammed it against the wall as ir crashed down and emptied itself of anything inside.
My body instinctively flinched away even though nothing was aimed my way.
I wish you'd just fucking die already…
He then targeted my bedframe standing infront of him, his hands gripped the lower half of the frame as he flipped it up and slammed it against the wall, though it didn't stay up for long as when it slammed back down he got even more pissed.
Just leave me alone, please…
"HOW THE HELL COULD YOU LOSE IT?"
His anger shifted towards the smaller things in my room like the pile of old books, the unfolded clothes, my tv, and my other shelf filled with half full boxes.
Fucking stop already…
He mercilessly started throwing things around and swiping my belongings onto the floor as his anger somehow boiled even more.
"YOU CAN'T DO A SINGLE FUCKING THING RIGHT, LOOK AT ALL THIS SHIT IN YOUR ROOM!!!"
Those are just my things… You bought most of them asshole…
My hand slowly gripped and rubbed up and down my arm as tears started to run down my eyes.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU CRYING FOR?"
You're ruining my room, thats why…
He turned back towards my now displaced bedframe and tossed the mattress onto the floor along with all my pillows and blankets, would he ever stop?
"I'M SO FUCKING SICK OF THIS SHIT."
His words started to slur, was he starting to cry…?
Why are you fucking crying…. What part of this shit gives you the right to cry?
I wanted to say so many things to him at that moment but all that could come out from my trembling lips were two, quiet, soft words.
"I'm sorry…"
"OH YOU'RE FUCKING SORRY?!?"
He really was starting to tear up but his body looked more mad then ever, each fiber of his being ready to blow at a moment's notice and wreak havoc in my already dissipated room.
"IM DONE, I CAN'T DEAL WITH THIS ANYMORE, I'M SO TIRED OF IT."
And with that last jab through my already tattered heart, he pushed past me and stormed outside to releave the "stress" he'd built up from the encounter with a long smoke break.
Die…. Die…. Just fucking die… I hate you, I HATE YOU, I FUCKING HATE YOU.
The tears started to flow even more as I started sniffling, out of everything that's happened to me in the 15 years I've been alive, this has to have been the worst.
All of this, over a fucking flashlight, ready Dad?
I wiped my tears but to no avail as the kept flowing, same with my nose, so I slowly started to pick up my belongings that were strung across the room, it looked like a tornado had ran through my room and then vanished into thin air before it could spread anywhere else.
My vision got foggy from the tears and my sleeves got even wetter as I continued to wipe my eyes with them.
Why does he hate me so much…
What did I do to him?
It didn't matter, it never does, ever since my brother moved out it's been pure hell in my house. My father had began getting overly pissed at anything I did, he never put his hands on me but that hardly made things better. The amount of screaming and berating that was thrown at me was enough for it to start.
After spending what felt like hours, which actually did turn out to be hours, I finished scraping together what was left of my room.
My tv was gone, my clothes that were scattered were now clumsily thrown into the drawers they belonged in like they were before, my bed was fixed into its old spot with the mattress, sheets, and pillows filled and tucked into their old spots, and finally all the trash and other items I'd own were back on my shelfs and junk drawers were they once lived. My room had taken an appearance of normailty once again, and I sighed.
But at that moment, after finally managing to dry the wells known as my eyes dry, I wept, I wept harder then before, harder then when my mother had died, harder then when my grandmother passed, and harder then when my brother moved out.
What did I do God, why did you let this happen to me… What have I ever done to deserve this? I haven't done anything to you, but you just keep taking… WHY?
My father walked in and out of the backdoor which was right beside my bedroom door, never once checking in, apologizing, or offering even a slight gaze at the catastrophe HE had caused.
That night I laid in my bed, eyes wide awake, body as still as a corpse. How could I fall asleep after what had happened just hours earlier?
I want to do it, I need to…
My body rolled over and faced my nightstand, my hand slid into the compartment under it and pulled out a long and sharp knife, a gift from a friend, it's blade shined in the moonlight seeping through my window as I stared directly at it as a thousands thought's crossed my mind again.
What if I just killed myself, right here, right now?
I hope he knows he's part of the reason I'm doing this…
I fucking hate him, I hate myself, I hate everything!!!
The only thing that linked every idea racing through my head together was one small and simple sentence.
I'm going to cut myself…
With little hesitation I pressed the blade against my arm and slowly slid it across my arm, I was inexperienced but I wasn't an idiot, If I cut straight down I'd end up killing myself, but… part of me wanted that, only a small part, the rest of me wanted to suffer, suffer in silence, the only minimal escape being this very moment as i dragged the knife across my forearm.
Why… Why doesn't it hurt?
It was practically the opposite, it felt good…? The knife hardly hurt, and watching the blood trail down my arm felt strangely soothing, it was like every cell of blood that came out of my wound was one less piece of me that had to suffer.
So, I did it again…
And again
And again and again and again
My breathing slowed and my eyes throbbed as blud trickled down all sides of my arm, 7 cuts, some short and some long, slowly leaked blood, the cuts weren't as deep as some of the cuts I'd seen online but they were enough for me. They gave me release and freed me momentarily of my pain, but the second I started to forget, everything came back.
Every bad memory, bad experience, anything at all I could recall that wasn't pleasant shot through my mind, I wanted nothing more then to die that very moment, the blood was no longer an escape, it was a REMINDER, a reminder of everything that led up to this, an everlasting reminder that what I'd just done couldn't be taken back, but did I even want to take it back?
It felt… good
Who cares if it leaves a scar, all it does is remind me that there is an escape, and it didn't hurt nearly as much as bottling everything up and hiding it away like I'd done before.
But, why am I crying then?
Tears started to flow from my eyes for the third time today.
Why? Why, why why why WHY, WHY?!
Why was I crying, this was suppose to help me, not make me cry even more.
I don't know what came over my body in that instant but all the thoughts telling me to stop silenced in an instant and the only thing still going was the adrenaline, and it was telling me not to stop…
This time, harder then before, I dug the knife into my fragile skin and slowly sliced my arm open, this cut was the deepest and biggest yet, and it felt amazing in the moment.
It felt once again like I had no worries in the world, so after wiping the blood clean I set the knife aside and laid back into my bed and closed my eyes.
I knew….
I knew I shouldn't have done it, but in the moment it felt like heaven, nothing was on my mind but the slow flow of blood coming out of my arm.
Dear God what have I done… Lord… Please help me, please just take me away and do as you please with me, I beg, just make it all stop, I shouldn't have to go through this…
That was my last thought.
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