How are you? I’m OK, although it’s 00:30, and I’m thinking about my alarm in five hours time… Let’s just block that out, shall we?
I kind of fancied writing a short story tonight; just in that mood, and I thought that it’d be nice to post it on the blog. So, here goes: my story. I’ll just quickly add that this should probably come with a trigger warning. So here is your warning; if you don’t wish to read, I’ll understand
He looked into the small bathroom mirror, which hung above the sink. His eyes were empty of emotion, and of life, his face pale and tired. His expression, however, was the aspect of his face that scared Will the most. It was blank; emotionless, painless, and lifeless. Only once before had he seen that expression, and the memory of it made his eyes whelk up and his heart stop beating for just a second.
Creeping quietly back to his room, he felt the first tear touch his soft cheek, and trickle to the corner of his mouth. Quickly shutting his door behind him, Will sank to the floor, his hands pressed to his head, and let the rinds flow down his face. It was no good holding them back – he’d learnt that before this night. Oh, many a time had he tried to hold back his tears, tried to still the uncontrollable shakes that took over his body. Never had he succeeded.
Reflecting on the last month was the start of this cycle. Adam. The scars on his arms, the tears still fresh in his eyes. The knife, making its last, evil, twisted wound. It had been one wound to many for Adam. Adam was gone. Adam wasn’t here. Adam would never be here.
And then, the abuse. Adam, unbeknown to Will, had more brothers than lived years. And those brothers blamed him. They blamed Will, for their brother’s death; for their brother’s depression; for their brother’s last, miserable months – alone, silenced and hurting. It wouldn’t be so baad, but they were right: it was Will’s fault, and Will knew it. Why did he ever even speak to those other boys? Why did he agree to be one of them? Why did he do what they said, said what they said, did what they did? How was he brainwashed so easily, into something that would inevitably split him from his oldest, closest friend?
Adam’s face appeared before Will’s eyes. It did that. Whenever he thought of Adam, there his face was, there to torment him, to make him feel guilty. Will screamed: one long, prolonged, pain-filled scream. Have screamed in devastation, in anger, in fear and in regret, as he pushed the knife deeper and deeper down, and into the side of his own neck.