Original Fiction: Broken [4/14]
Title: Original Fiction: Broken [4/14]
Author: meiloslyther
Rating: R
Warning: Self-harm and physical abuse.
POV: 1st, Chance
Summary: Chance, 18 years old and the main character, has multiple mental disorders, all of which are either undiagnosed or untreated, and lives with his best friend, Nate. Nate, 17, is mostly sane and logical, but tends to be oblivious to the hell going on around him. Megan, Nate's troubled 16 year old girlfriend, has problems with her mother because of her issues with men and dated Chance a few years prior. This is their story.
Word Count: 611 [this part]; 8,753 [total]
Author Notes: Based on semi-realistic events that happened to either myself or my friends. Lyrics from Alone I Break by Korn.
Ch. 1 : Ch. 2 : Ch. 3 : Ch. 5 : Ch. 6 : Ch. 7
Ch. 8 : Ch. 9 : Ch. 10 : Ch. 11 : Ch. 12 : Ch. 13 : Ch. 14
It was getting really late. It was way past ten, and Nate said he'd be back before nine. I kept trying to tell myself that he was just having trouble getting home, that he had to walk or something. But in the back of my mind, I knew he was never coming back. That the bitch took him away and was never letting go.
I couldn't stand it. I couldn't let it go.
"Fucking bitch," I muttered, as I put out my cigarette on my hand. It stung a little, but not enough for me.
I contemplated the burn mark for a good while. Something had to be done, and it had to be done in blood. Blood. I found my switchblade knife and opened it slowly, admiring the sharp, glinting blade. In one quick motion I pressed it to my naked torso and sliced open a cut as long as my finger, probably as deep as a finger width. I made more of them. Many more of them. So much blood. Blood.
As I watched it ooze out, gush out, I wondered where my hare, my angel, my guardian angel was now. I wouldn't let myself believe he was with her. No, I couldn't. Never in a million years. He was mine, and mine only. The two of them together reminded me of them. The two who broke my arm last night. Minding my own business, and they broke my arm. She has too many similarities to the bitch. And him and Nate... Well, they used to be a lot alike. Not much anymore.
I wondered vaguely, momentarily, if I should stop the bleeding. But only for a moment.
"...I will make it go away
Can't be here no more
Seems this is the only way
I will soon be gone
These feelings will be gone..."
"These feelings will be gone," I sang along faintly, laying down carefully on my bed. "Now I see the times they change... leaving doesn't seem so strange..."
I stared up at the ceiling fan, watching it as it spun. "I am hoping I can find... where to leave my hurt behind..." My black-light made the fan look weird. Like it was spinning backwards.
"All this shit I seem to take... all alone I seem to break..." I closed my eyes and stopped thinking, stopped feeling. "I have lived the best... I... can..."
It was cold. Very cold. I was sitting on the couch watching TV, like I always did during winter break. It was nearly midnight, and my parents still weren't home from the bar. My brother was also out with some friends. They always left me home alone.
Suddenly, Mom burst in with my step dad, yelling at each other, then at me. I tried to get out of it, talking or otherwise. But it was too late. They were beating me. I could already feel the blood dripping from my lip. The concussion to my head. The bruised ribs. The broken arm. I was dying...
"CHANCE."
"...Does this... make me... not... a man...?" I whispered in a daze.
"CHANCE, you're fucking BLEEDING. GET UP."
I allowed Nate to pick me up and drag me to the bathroom. I didn't weigh much, at least, not anymore, so it wasn't much of a problem. He grabbed a rag and wet it, tending to my self inflicted wounds. There was peroxide involved, but I didn't feel it. When he was done, he put a gauze pad over everything and taped it in place.
He was mine, all mine once again. My angel. My guardian angel. Dear, sweet god, what would I do without him?
-----------------------------------------
A/N: More of my work here.
Author: meiloslyther
Rating: R
Warning: Self-harm and physical abuse.
POV: 1st, Chance
Summary: Chance, 18 years old and the main character, has multiple mental disorders, all of which are either undiagnosed or untreated, and lives with his best friend, Nate. Nate, 17, is mostly sane and logical, but tends to be oblivious to the hell going on around him. Megan, Nate's troubled 16 year old girlfriend, has problems with her mother because of her issues with men and dated Chance a few years prior. This is their story.
Word Count: 611 [this part]; 8,753 [total]
Author Notes: Based on semi-realistic events that happened to either myself or my friends. Lyrics from Alone I Break by Korn.
Ch. 1 : Ch. 2 : Ch. 3 : Ch. 5 : Ch. 6 : Ch. 7
Ch. 8 : Ch. 9 : Ch. 10 : Ch. 11 : Ch. 12 : Ch. 13 : Ch. 14
It was getting really late. It was way past ten, and Nate said he'd be back before nine. I kept trying to tell myself that he was just having trouble getting home, that he had to walk or something. But in the back of my mind, I knew he was never coming back. That the bitch took him away and was never letting go.
I couldn't stand it. I couldn't let it go.
"Fucking bitch," I muttered, as I put out my cigarette on my hand. It stung a little, but not enough for me.
I contemplated the burn mark for a good while. Something had to be done, and it had to be done in blood. Blood. I found my switchblade knife and opened it slowly, admiring the sharp, glinting blade. In one quick motion I pressed it to my naked torso and sliced open a cut as long as my finger, probably as deep as a finger width. I made more of them. Many more of them. So much blood. Blood.
As I watched it ooze out, gush out, I wondered where my hare, my angel, my guardian angel was now. I wouldn't let myself believe he was with her. No, I couldn't. Never in a million years. He was mine, and mine only. The two of them together reminded me of them. The two who broke my arm last night. Minding my own business, and they broke my arm. She has too many similarities to the bitch. And him and Nate... Well, they used to be a lot alike. Not much anymore.
I wondered vaguely, momentarily, if I should stop the bleeding. But only for a moment.
"...I will make it go away
Can't be here no more
Seems this is the only way
I will soon be gone
These feelings will be gone..."
"These feelings will be gone," I sang along faintly, laying down carefully on my bed. "Now I see the times they change... leaving doesn't seem so strange..."
I stared up at the ceiling fan, watching it as it spun. "I am hoping I can find... where to leave my hurt behind..." My black-light made the fan look weird. Like it was spinning backwards.
"All this shit I seem to take... all alone I seem to break..." I closed my eyes and stopped thinking, stopped feeling. "I have lived the best... I... can..."
It was cold. Very cold. I was sitting on the couch watching TV, like I always did during winter break. It was nearly midnight, and my parents still weren't home from the bar. My brother was also out with some friends. They always left me home alone.
Suddenly, Mom burst in with my step dad, yelling at each other, then at me. I tried to get out of it, talking or otherwise. But it was too late. They were beating me. I could already feel the blood dripping from my lip. The concussion to my head. The bruised ribs. The broken arm. I was dying...
"CHANCE."
"...Does this... make me... not... a man...?" I whispered in a daze.
"CHANCE, you're fucking BLEEDING. GET UP."
I allowed Nate to pick me up and drag me to the bathroom. I didn't weigh much, at least, not anymore, so it wasn't much of a problem. He grabbed a rag and wet it, tending to my self inflicted wounds. There was peroxide involved, but I didn't feel it. When he was done, he put a gauze pad over everything and taped it in place.
He was mine, all mine once again. My angel. My guardian angel. Dear, sweet god, what would I do without him?
-----------------------------------------
A/N: More of my work here.