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Hold On
Chapter One: Every Rose Has It's thorns
Kellins POV
I slowly drag the blade across my skin relishing in the stinging pain it brings along with a satisfying relief. I imagine with every cut another negative thought or feeling somehow floats out of the newly opened wound. In my eyes the blood is all of my inner pain finding an escape.
I don't know why other people cut or hurt themselves but I do it for the relief, the pain, the adrenaline knowing that your in control for once.
That the pain your feeling is because of your own hand. Your the cause of the pain you bring to yourself. I lay the now bloody razor blade onto the bathroom counter and grab a wash cloth wetting it in cold water and lightly laying it across my now bloody hip.
The cold water seeping into my puckered, split skin. I inhale a deep breath and let it all exhaling slowly and pull the now blood covered rag away and drop it in the laundry bin. Grabbing the anti-biotic cream, I unscrew the lid and smear the clearish cream across the 10 lines of patch work cuts.
Its such a routine task for me now, I don't even have to think about what I'm doing anymore. 10 cuts on my hip in random criss-cross lines, others may prefer nice pretty lines in a row but honestly I love the bloody mess, it reminds me of my mind. How I'm just a cluttered mess of worthlessness.
After I make the cuts I then wash the blood away and medicine them before bndaging them, same thing I do every night. The only difference is the location of the cuts. Sometimes my arms, sometimes my hips and sometimes my legs. I'm just mechanical, my every move is robotic.
The only reason I'm still alive and breathing is because death may be worse than life and that is not a risk that I am willing to take. The suicidal thoughts are there, they are always there. I'm just too scared to act on it. I guess I'm just a wimp when it comes to the unknown.
In the end though, I think I will be too far gone to even care about life after death, if there even is one. I know that when I get over my ridiculous fear and do the inevitable that no body will care, that I will just be a faded memory. I may not even be remembered, maybe I won't even be a memory.
After covering my cuts with a bandage I clean up the rest of my mess and shuffle back to my room. Turning Pandora on, on my beat up phone. Throwing on a large hoodie I slip under the blankets and listen to the melody of guns and roses, singing about roses and thorns, letting Axels mournful voice lull me to sleep as tears slide down my face.
....
I never really understood the concept of living. You eat. You breath. You waste your youth going to school to get an education only to grow up going to a stupid 9-5 job that you will most likely hate. If your lucky you might meet the special girl or boy that you end up marrying only to fall out of love but be too stubborn to leave and you both go on being miserable together until either of you die.
And if you do divorce there's a good chance that your going to grow old all alone and still be miserable and end up dying alone with no one to mourn you. Life's fucked up that way.
Sadly my parents are too stubborn to leave each other causing not only them to be miserable but me as well, saying i'm the one that they both take their anger out on. I deserve most of it though, my mother tells me its all my fault any ways because before i was born they were both happy and in love, I fuck everything up i guess.
My very existence is meaningless in a way, I'm not doing something great, no body gives me a passing glance unless it's a way to take out their anger and then I'm just their punching bag for the next 10 to 15 minutes.
You live only to die yet death makes no sense either saying its of the unknown. Nobody has rock hard evidence about death and where you go, Christianity states you either go to heaven or hell and if that's true than I am definitely going to hell. Buddhist believe that there is a cycle of birth, life and death and rebirth. This goes on and on.
They believe that unless someone gains Enlightenment, when they die they will be reborn. If a person can gain Enlightenment, they can break out of this cycle. If thats true, I must have done something really shitty in my past life to deserve what I have gone through so far. Atheists believe that they just go into the ground or up in ashes.
The belief that people "go somewhere" when they die is a religious fabrication to help people accept death.
Honestly I don't Know what i want to believe. I mean there has got to be something more than this after we die, we can't just live to die than stop existing, whats the use in that? Why even be here in the first place if when you die you just cease to exist?
When we die do our souls stay tethered to earth to roam around with nothing to do but haunt the living? There has got to be something better than that! If I have to live the shitty life I'm living then I want a god damn reward for it!
And if christianity is correct in where we go than I'm fucking screwed because if you sin you go to hell and homosexuality is a sin in their book. Hinduism and buddism's messed up because they test you to see if your good enough for nirvana or enlightenment and if not you just get reincarnated into something else.
If anything I want Greek Mythology be right because if it is than I am completely okay since I will probably put in the fields of Asphodel which is a section in the Underworld where indifferent or ordinary souls who lived a life of neither good or evil are sent to live after death. I've done nothing great and probably the greatest thing I will ever do is rid the world of my existence.
Too bad I probably won't even do that because I dont want to take my chances on not knowing where I'm gonna go. I know that if I'm pushed far enough I probably won't care, but obviously I haven't been pushed to that point because here I am, shoved in a locker missing third period English, contemplating life after death.
I really don't understand what I did to get everybody to hate me, well everybody exept for Justin. Justin has pretty much been there for me since freshman year 3 years ago when he found me in the bathroom shredding the skin on my arms after Craig dumped his tray of food on me and pretty much outed me to the school. Craig and I were once really close practically best friends. Then in 8th grade, I told him that I'm gay and that I had a slight crush on him and next thing you know, he avoids me and befriends the new kid Beau Bokan and now they are my daily tormentors.
Along with the rest of Mission Bay. I'm just that emo fag that is everybodies punching bag. Justin tries to help whenever he can but honestly the tiny scrawny kid can't do much but wipe the blood from my face or help me up after a beating.
I don't blame him though because if he stood up to either of the two or any one else he'd probably get his face punched in. There's a good chance that if that happens I might lose the only friend I have and I really don't want that.
My phone vibrates startling me from my thoughts, I twist around finally getting the beat up nokia in my grasp.
Justin: Which locker are you in?
me: I think it's like #263 :S
Justin:OH SHIT
me: What? Whose locker is this?
Justin: Vic Fuentes
Right as that messege arrives some one opens the locker.
"Who the hell are you?"
None other Than Vic Fucking Fuentes
I slowly drag the blade across my skin relishing in the stinging pain it brings along with a satisfying relief. I imagine with every cut another negative thought or feeling somehow floats out of the newly opened wound. In my eyes the blood is all of my inner pain finding an escape.
I don't know why other people cut or hurt themselves but I do it for the relief, the pain, the adrenaline knowing that your in control for once.
That the pain your feeling is because of your own hand. Your the cause of the pain you bring to yourself. I lay the now bloody razor blade onto the bathroom counter and grab a wash cloth wetting it in cold water and lightly laying it across my now bloody hip.
The cold water seeping into my puckered, split skin. I inhale a deep breath and let it all exhaling slowly and pull the now blood covered rag away and drop it in the laundry bin. Grabbing the anti-biotic cream, I unscrew the lid and smear the clearish cream across the 10 lines of patch work cuts.
Its such a routine task for me now, I don't even have to think about what I'm doing anymore. 10 cuts on my hip in random criss-cross lines, others may prefer nice pretty lines in a row but honestly I love the bloody mess, it reminds me of my mind. How I'm just a cluttered mess of worthlessness.
After I make the cuts I then wash the blood away and medicine them before bndaging them, same thing I do every night. The only difference is the location of the cuts. Sometimes my arms, sometimes my hips and sometimes my legs. I'm just mechanical, my every move is robotic.
The only reason I'm still alive and breathing is because death may be worse than life and that is not a risk that I am willing to take. The suicidal thoughts are there, they are always there. I'm just too scared to act on it. I guess I'm just a wimp when it comes to the unknown.
In the end though, I think I will be too far gone to even care about life after death, if there even is one. I know that when I get over my ridiculous fear and do the inevitable that no body will care, that I will just be a faded memory. I may not even be remembered, maybe I won't even be a memory.
After covering my cuts with a bandage I clean up the rest of my mess and shuffle back to my room. Turning Pandora on, on my beat up phone. Throwing on a large hoodie I slip under the blankets and listen to the melody of guns and roses, singing about roses and thorns, letting Axels mournful voice lull me to sleep as tears slide down my face.
....
I never really understood the concept of living. You eat. You breath. You waste your youth going to school to get an education only to grow up going to a stupid 9-5 job that you will most likely hate. If your lucky you might meet the special girl or boy that you end up marrying only to fall out of love but be too stubborn to leave and you both go on being miserable together until either of you die.
And if you do divorce there's a good chance that your going to grow old all alone and still be miserable and end up dying alone with no one to mourn you. Life's fucked up that way.
Sadly my parents are too stubborn to leave each other causing not only them to be miserable but me as well, saying i'm the one that they both take their anger out on. I deserve most of it though, my mother tells me its all my fault any ways because before i was born they were both happy and in love, I fuck everything up i guess.
My very existence is meaningless in a way, I'm not doing something great, no body gives me a passing glance unless it's a way to take out their anger and then I'm just their punching bag for the next 10 to 15 minutes.
You live only to die yet death makes no sense either saying its of the unknown. Nobody has rock hard evidence about death and where you go, Christianity states you either go to heaven or hell and if that's true than I am definitely going to hell. Buddhist believe that there is a cycle of birth, life and death and rebirth. This goes on and on.
They believe that unless someone gains Enlightenment, when they die they will be reborn. If a person can gain Enlightenment, they can break out of this cycle. If thats true, I must have done something really shitty in my past life to deserve what I have gone through so far. Atheists believe that they just go into the ground or up in ashes.
The belief that people "go somewhere" when they die is a religious fabrication to help people accept death.
Honestly I don't Know what i want to believe. I mean there has got to be something more than this after we die, we can't just live to die than stop existing, whats the use in that? Why even be here in the first place if when you die you just cease to exist?
When we die do our souls stay tethered to earth to roam around with nothing to do but haunt the living? There has got to be something better than that! If I have to live the shitty life I'm living then I want a god damn reward for it!
And if christianity is correct in where we go than I'm fucking screwed because if you sin you go to hell and homosexuality is a sin in their book. Hinduism and buddism's messed up because they test you to see if your good enough for nirvana or enlightenment and if not you just get reincarnated into something else.
If anything I want Greek Mythology be right because if it is than I am completely okay since I will probably put in the fields of Asphodel which is a section in the Underworld where indifferent or ordinary souls who lived a life of neither good or evil are sent to live after death. I've done nothing great and probably the greatest thing I will ever do is rid the world of my existence.
Too bad I probably won't even do that because I dont want to take my chances on not knowing where I'm gonna go. I know that if I'm pushed far enough I probably won't care, but obviously I haven't been pushed to that point because here I am, shoved in a locker missing third period English, contemplating life after death.
I really don't understand what I did to get everybody to hate me, well everybody exept for Justin. Justin has pretty much been there for me since freshman year 3 years ago when he found me in the bathroom shredding the skin on my arms after Craig dumped his tray of food on me and pretty much outed me to the school. Craig and I were once really close practically best friends. Then in 8th grade, I told him that I'm gay and that I had a slight crush on him and next thing you know, he avoids me and befriends the new kid Beau Bokan and now they are my daily tormentors.
Along with the rest of Mission Bay. I'm just that emo fag that is everybodies punching bag. Justin tries to help whenever he can but honestly the tiny scrawny kid can't do much but wipe the blood from my face or help me up after a beating.
I don't blame him though because if he stood up to either of the two or any one else he'd probably get his face punched in. There's a good chance that if that happens I might lose the only friend I have and I really don't want that.
My phone vibrates startling me from my thoughts, I twist around finally getting the beat up nokia in my grasp.
Justin: Which locker are you in?
me: I think it's like #263 :S
Justin:OH SHIT
me: What? Whose locker is this?
Justin: Vic Fuentes
Right as that messege arrives some one opens the locker.
"Who the hell are you?"
None other Than Vic Fucking Fuentes
♠ ♠ ♠
Well there's the first chapter and I am going to tell you now that I won't warn you for trigger warnings because this whole book is pretty much a trigger in one way or another so you have been warned!