A Walk Through Hell (Boyxboy)

Chapter 14- Wayfaring Stranger

As we entered the house the overwhelming pain and hatred swelled in my in my stomach making it almost impossible to stand, let alone walk. "Zand-"

"I just want to be alone," my voice was a shell of its original self. I could no longer hide the hurt. In the courtroom, the lawyer said it would help Max out to cry but I couldn't do that. In front of everyone who wanted her to keep the damn kid. It would be embarrassing. Stupid. So I bit the insides of my cheeks and dug my fingernails into my skin and chanted 'don't cry, don't cry, don't fucking shed a god damned tear' in my mind.

But I couldn't conceal the sobs that threatened to rack through my emaciated body the whole trip home. I didn't want to be weak. I didn't want to be hurt but the fact that my whole existence has been bullshit stung like no wound could. It crippled me in more ways than I'd let anyone ever know. I couldn't be this pathetic. But I was.

The stairs were the hardest to climb. Every footfall felt like a mountain range. Every step was another wave of nausea. I couldn't fathom the aching in my chest. Everything hurt. Mentally, physically. It diminished whatever feeling of content I could conjure. It hurt. To be in so much pain I couldn't pretend. It hurt more than getting hit. Breaking bones. Jumping off of bridges into traffic. No; this pain was new and it broke me. I felt me shatter into a million pieces as I replayed every childhood memory.

I never had a damned childhood! I had pain. I had grief. I had to live through that, but this? Could anyone blame me if I dropped dead from the devastation that consumed me? Swallowed me? Could they?

Finally making it to my room, my hand on the knob, I knew that taking another step would shatter my soul. I wouldn't leave this room ever again. I'd be better off dead. But I had to hide. To shield myself from the rest of the world. So I twisted the doorknob and entered. The lights were off. It was cold. I shut the door, leaning against it as I let out the ugliest sob ever. I sank to the ground, putting my face in my hands. I couldn't scream. I couldn't throw anything. I couldn't even move much. I just crumpled into my self, clenching every muscle in my body, hoping to keep my wits. At least enough to quit crying when I ran out of tears.

The darkness I had only been running from my whole life wrapped around my core and squeezed. As if the world was asking, "how much pain can a human soul be in before it finally dies?" This was worse than anything I'd felt. This wasn't some mediocre kid kicking me in the stomach. This wasn't my dad breaking my arm. This wasn't verbal abuse. This was deeper. This was all of that combined and more. All the pain I've ever felt plus all the pain I would feel. Crashing down all at once.

It was the feeling of crying so hard you can't find breath in between each sob so it feels like drowning. It was the feeling of failing at something you believe could be the one thing you excel at. Its like rejection and dying all at once. It was worse than dying. I've been close to death before. The black had been so near to me I could almost feel nothing. Death was happy compared to my agony.

The need for a release was strong. I wanted the pain out of me. Off of me. So I struggled to stand and walked over to my closet in the emptiness and reached up until my fingers wrapped around the tiny tin box I'd had since I was ten. It had held six pieces of chocolate. My mom had given it to me on valentines day. The last time I consumed chocolate.

I backed away from the closet, until the back of my knees hit my mattress. I sat down, breathing hard, my tears making my hands wet as they fell from my eyes. Setting the tin down, I peeled off my shirt in a disheveled manner, tossing it aside before opening the tin, lifting out a blade. It felt heavy in my hand, the metal stinging my fingers because it felt ice cold. I set the blade against the skin of my forearm. It had been weeks. Months. Too long. I pressed down hard. Enough to break the skin. I pulled the blade towards me slowly. I could almost hear it slicing my skin. But I couldn't feel it. The stinging was there. But the pain just wasn't.