Blood Painted Roses *Part 4*

*Hayley’s POV*

With that he released himself, then reached into my back pocket for my wallet.

“Thanks.” He took around five dollar bills and threw the wallet on my bed. He exited out my room normally.

My once neatly made bed now looked torn apart. And the way I looked wasn’t any better. In desperation, I searched for a sharp object. The first thing that caught my eye was a metal compass on my desk. Shedding tears I brought myself to the bathroom and turned on the faucet. I held it with a firm grip and punctured myself on the open areas of my wrist. Watching the blood drip down my fingertips and splatter into the water made me cry more.

I washed half my arm and dried it. I sat in a small corner near the toliet. I rolled up my sleeves to where there were slash marks, unhealed wounds all over my wrist and half my arms. This made me shatter inside. I am slowly cutting my life away.

“I wish I could just fall into an eternal sleep.” I have two choices: I can rid my life, or I can write.

Writing cures my pain. It’s the only way to communicate and let things off my chest.

I had to get up. I stretched my arms out to grasp the wall, but I fell back like a rag doll put in an old dusty corner.

A little droplet of blood trailed down my arm. “I’m losing too much blood.”

I finally gathered up the energy left in my body and put my feet under my body, and used the wall as my guide. I was in desperate need of food. I started feeling lightheaded and gradually dizziness overcame me, as well. I slowly arose, still with my back on the wall. My felt stable, until…

(Collapse)

“Uhhh…” I said holding my head. I looked around confused. i was still in my bathroom. I thought I left.

I hadn’t risen up yet, but in a close distance hung a clock. I squinted my eyes to make the blur readable. “12:00?” I moved my attention to the dusty and moldy ceiling. My sudden dozing off was interrupted by a cold puddle of liquid exciting the feeling in my fingertips. That wet puddle was blood.

This time I couldn’t bring myself up. But I had to. I remembered I had a honey and oats granola bar in my bag. I didn’t have anything left inside me to actually make myself a sandwich to satisfy my hunger, so it seemed like my only option. I crawled my way out of the bathroom. I don’t know how I did it, I just did.

“Just a little more…” I said lower than a whisper. I stretched out my arms to reach the zipper. I unzipped the front pocket to see a shiny green wrapper. I grabbed it and bit it open. I sscarfed ot down in about 5 seconds.

Still weak, I couldn’t bring myself to my bed. I noticed my vlack notebook peaking out of my bag.My hands itched to write. It’s my only source of communication. My pain killer. I got it and inside I wrote:

Time can pass me by, but it can’t fast forward my pain.

My cuts have turned to wounds.

Bruises to Scars.

Strong to weak.

Alone andpreparing to cut my string.

Never been loved, never felt loved.

The midst of vibrant rainbows have died into a gray, dark and smoky shelter for my feelings.

My childhood innocence robbed and sobbed till’ my blood ran.

Internally dying, externally decomposing.

My voice never heard, even when begging for mercy.

Brainwashed and disfigured, ink and paper have replaced the persons that murdered my soul, leaving only a family of music, words, and oxygen.

How to stop the bleeding?

Bullet: meet Head.

****So this was a pretty dark and kinda gothic part of the story. Yes, it’s depressing, but trust me when I say it’ll get better. It sucked to us, so express you opinion as well. If you like it: keep reading, comment , and buzz. Love. Peace. FAll OUT BOY.

-Annette and Grace