Daddy Issues - Johnnyboy

5 - Save me from my self-destruction

I woke up with my head pounding against my eyes, I felt around the familiar comforter on the bed and took in a breath from the pillows, it was definitely Ponyboy's room. I groaned quietly, I didn't like waking up like this, I felt empty like there was nothing left for me to feel anymore. I felt numb, It was debilitating, it made me feel like I was sleepwalking through this life. I turned to my left and saw that no one was there so I sat up and groaned at the feeling of my bruised ribs.

I took off my muddy shoes and put them on the ground and as if a bomb had just dropped, it dawned on me, My father is dead. There was this nagging feeling that told me that this couldn't be real, That it would never happen like that, without me knowing, without me being there. Usually, when I woke up like this I feel it when I wake up in my own home, not in someone else's. So this was new for me, I was able to just keep everything afloat, not let anyone see into the curtains of my trauma. I took a deep breath but it shook on the exhale, its finally registering throughout my whole being. He was dead. How? When? How could she be so cruel when letting me know? 

I put my head in my hands and lifted my knees to my chest, trying to huddle up without caving in on myself. I felt like I was gonna fall apart at the seams so I was just gonna try and stay together for as long as possible. I was trying so hard not to cry, so so hard, I'd have to save that for the night. But without my control, my feelings overpowered me and a few tears slipped. I covered my mouth with my hand tightly and just sobbed. I had to hold my breath on the big cries, in case one of them was listening in.

"Fuck," I whispered to myself, wiping the tears and standing up. I ruffled my clothes a bit, straightening them out a little. I took a few deep breaths before opening the door, no one was there thank god, and I smelt food coming from downstairs, but I headed towards the bathroom. I closed the door silently, locking it behind me.

I looked in the mirror and had to restrain myself from scoffing and cringing. I looked completely dead, a few scratches were on my face and a large cut on the hairline of my head, some dried blood was still there but it looked as if it had been cleaned. I sat on the toilet and sighed, I looked at one of the razors on the shelf, I took it, and stared at it for a moment.

*Please be safe*

I twisted it around in my hand, and cautiously removed the razor. It was the old metal razors where you had to change the razors once in a while, so it was easily slipped out from a push of a small button below the razor. I took it out, and put the remainder of the razor back on the shelf. I nipped the metal on my finger, emitting a hiss from my lips, but something about it made my skin itch, and I raised it to my wrist and slowly started to slice.

I had never known that this could feel as good as it did, it's supposed to hurt but my god was it stress-relieving, it was so comforting to watch my hurt flow from my veins onto my hands and to the floor but then I panicked because I had been sitting here for at least fifteen minutes doing this to the both of my wrists. It seemed like none of my forearms were showing because of how much blood was covering it completely, I swiftly grabbed a black towel from under the sink and put pressure on my arm, making me wince and start to sniffle.

I held the towel on my wrist for a while and as I did so, I scrambled to find some bandages, I found some white ace bandages that had two metal clasps to connect the fabric together. I put the towel down and looked at what I had done, I sighed and just wrapped it around my arms and clipped them. I put my sleeves down on my jean jacket but you could see some of the bandage, so I shoved my hands in my pocket.

Now the shame that comes after this is what genuinely makes me hate myself, why deliberately hurt yourself and be mad that you did it afterwards. I didn't understand the concept, at the moment I wanted my pain to be real, to be seen, but now that it was displayed what do I do with the rest of this hurt. I couldn't stand my way of thinking, it was illogical, irrational, stupid even, I just needed to feel it.

I stepped out of the bathroom and went down the stairs, but every time I moved my arm, even in the slightest way, it would hurt and make me wince, it was the consequence of acting with your emotions. I saw the three boys of the house all sitting and talking, Pony looked like he had been crying, Darry looked chill about things and Soda seem worried, and confused.

"Hi, guys. . ." I croaked, then the people from the couch scrambled up, I saw the men from earlier look at me with concern. Soda sighed in relief, Darry smiled, and Ponyboy ran to me, hugging me tightly, and I couldn't help but wrap my arms around him, I could feel everyone staring at the bandages but they didn't comment.

"Are you okay?" Ponyboy asked me, I had nodded quickly and he held my face. I felt so touch starved at the moment that I so badly wanted to kiss him, for him to tell me that things were gonna be fine, I wanted him to hold me when I cried, I really wanted to be loved. I wanted to be loved as much as I loved him.

In the back of my mind, I've always known this, but all this grief that's been in mind is making me realize that I don't take my chances, that I wait till the last minute and then they're gone. I don't want to be like that anymore.

So yes, I'm in love with him. But I'm so fucking scared of what will happen once he realizes I'm not good for him.

"Yeah, my uh, my mom kicked me out because uhm. . ." I had to catch my breath, and had to blink the tears away before continuing.

"My dad passed away." When I said it, it made it seem like everything was actually real and it only made me want to cry more.