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Post by chance on Aug 19, 2011 16:17:46 GMT -5
 
It was late, that much Chance could tell. But he couldn’t stay inside his filthy apartment, not for much longer. It was like he was trapped, of everyday reminders of Sara in that dingy little hole he called home. He could still recall it like it were yesterday, as they were to visit her sister, in this very apartment block. So why he chose to live here was a mystery..though half of it was due to the fact it was the only place he could afford on his small wage at the car garage. He barely turned up to work nowadays and was behind in rent..typical. He really to pick up his weight and he knew that. Otherwise he wouldn’t have money left over for alcohol which was a bigger problem, in his eyes. The pain, it hurt every day. There wasn’t a second of the day when he thought about that night, the guilt gnawing away. Picking himself up of the couch, he grabbed a bottle of vodka and headed out into the dark streets. He wandered around aimlessly for the longest time, content that he was alone for once. He even purposely didn’t take his cell with him, as he didn’t want to be annoyed or put off. He didn’t some space, a clear head to think. Or more appropriately a quiet place to just lose himself. Eventually the older teenager found the perfect spot. It was a place he rarely visited with Sara, hence making it an ideal habitat. Setting down on the grass near the lake, he brought his knees to his chest, gulping down the cold contents from his bottle. His blue eyes drifted out to the water, not really focusing on anyway. He just wanted to escape from all this hurt that he blamed himself for. Why couldn’t he just forget? That would be simpler. Instead he took to drastic measures, of which most weren’t pleased about. He distanced himself from his family and former friends, after coming to the conclusion they would just make things more complicated. His hands fiddled to his pocket for a second, taking out a small blade, from a razor. His sleeves were pulled taunt over his arms, for the fact he bared so many scars. His sister was getting suspicious too, so he continued to hid it. He played with blade in his hand, squeezing his hand into a fist over the razor sharp edge. A slight sting enveloped as he squeezed tight, leaning his head back. The pain, it didn’t melt away that easily, but it helped. A small trickle of blood flowed from his closed hand as he barely moved an inch, just kept staring ahead, wanting his troubles to just disappear.  STATUS # complete FEATURING # OPEN WORD COUNT # --- NOTES # first post whoop XD CREDIT # IRONICALLIZE_IT @ CAUTION 2.0 |
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Post by rory on Aug 20, 2011 20:08:36 GMT -5
 How many times had Rory ended up in the hospital in the last month? Of course it was more than a few, more than five and maybe even more than ten. Rory had lost track after five. It was a habit now, this whole suicide thing. Sometimes he didn’t even know that he was cutting himself or would be overdosing in the next ten minutes and sometimes he didn’t even know that he was part of the choking game. He didn’t notice anything like that anymore. He actually didn’t notice anything anymore. His father had kicked him out of the house a couple years back after he told him that he was gay and since then everything had went downhill from there; he had to pay for college himself, his mother stopped talking to him, his best friend died when they were playing the choking game and he went from living on a friends couch to the streets and then back to living on his friends couch and then he found himself an awful apartment that was actually decent. If only he hadn’t come out to his parents then maybe he wouldn’t be broke and in dept. Maybe he could of waiting till his college years were over till he came out. But Rory can’t wish for those sorts of things; they’ll never come true. Rory use to lay awake at night and wish that he had the life that he would’ve had if he had just waited a year or two to tell his parents, after they had paid for college and all of that jazz. There was one good thing that came out of all of this; he now knew how to support himself and now he had some of his art at an art studio. The art he did was pretty dark stuff, it was weird but behind all of the weirdness it had some sort of personal meaning to him. It was the one thing keeping him alive, this art thing that he had been interested in since he can remember. What started him on all of this art stuff was the day that his mother took him and his sister to an art gallery thing, and since then he hasn’t stopped. The art he did when he was moving from couch to couch is very… depressing and dark and so is the art that he is doing now. His best friend recently killed himself, he isn’t exactly on good terms with his parents, and his sister isn’t the same as she was a year ago. Rory blames the drugs, he was the one who had gotten her into them and now she can’t stop.
It was late and Rory had just visited his parents. He didn’t talk to them at all, just sort of watching them eating dinner from the window. He knew that his sister and mother saw him and maybe even his father, but he was trying to act like he didn’t even see him. His sister just sort of smiled and looking straight at him and his mother gave him this sort of pained expression, like she missed him or something. He was her son, wouldn’t she miss him? You would hope so. Rory missed his parents more than everything; it had been the only reason why he had come home from college and because he didn’t have any money left for another year of college. After about a couple of minutes just staring he felt like a creep and walked away. He walked to the lake; it wasn’t at all from his parents’ house, only a block or so.
Rory backed up a bit from where he was now standing. He had seen someone and really didn’t want to disturb them. He looked a bit more trying not to look obvious. But what was the point of that? It was dark and he couldn’t really be seen, then again there was a light right above him. Was that Chance? Didn’t he drop out of school? Rory was close to that at one time but saw a future in art for himself and that kind of helped him do well in school. Rory walked a bit towards Chance before he realized that he was cutting himself. Rory had done that many times, he had scares to show for it and the fact that he just got out of the hospital today for over dose. It seemed that Rory constantly tried to kill himself but never succeeded. uhm. Chance...? He spoke softly and quietly, he was a quiet person.
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Post by chance on Aug 25, 2011 18:35:03 GMT -5
Chance continued to just sit there, on the bank, not really sure what to do with his life anymore. Before the incident, Chance was anything but depressed. He was more outgoing, if a bit of a troublemaker. But at least he was happy. And he would give anything to have that feeling back again. But no, that was not going to happen, not in the near future. Because he didn’t want to help himself, he was fine with just allowing in his own pity, as he wasn’t sure what else he could do. As there any point anymore? Chance did not think so, not now. He was just existing, barely. Oh how he wanted to just run away from here, forget everything, try to move on. But he couldn’t[/i[. There was always that strange pull that kept him here, as he didn’t think he deserved any better. He was guilty for what he did, so now he as suffering what he had he had deserved. Nether less he tried to rid himself of all the pain, but it always ending up in boozing way too much and feeling light-headed from the blood loss.
His eyes stared on ahead, not affected by the pain in his closed fist. He barely felt it anymore, as it was something he had grown accustomed to. It was hard to think what life would have been like, if he had said things differently that night, then she would still be here. The boy soon lifted the bottle to his lips once more, taking a gulp of the alcohol. Sometimes it helped to numb the wounds that he inflicted on himself, but the emotional scars were still there an unlikely to move. He set the bottle down on the grassy bank just as he swore he heard footsteps.
But he did not move from his sitting position, his eyes settling on the cool water on the horizon. He didn’t care who saw him, because he had gone past caring at this point. Nor was he interesting at ho was behind him. He kept motionless, until he heard familiar voice call out his name. His eyes widened as he caught on who it was. He instantly was taken back to his Highschool days, here he first encountered the kid, the only person, besides Sara, that seemed to get him. Not that Chance ever admitted it. His fist flicked open, the blood stained razor blade falling onto the grass, his palm cut and oozing blood. Gripping his sleeve over his hand, he turned to make sure it really was...him.
”Rory? What are you doing here? ”he asked, quietly, trying to hide his injured hand. He was a little surprised, since the last he heard, Rory had went to college. Why was he back?
STATUS # complete
FEATURING # rory
WORD COUNT # ---
NOTES # n/a
CREDIT # IRONICALLIZE_IT @ CAUTION 2.0 |
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Post by rory on Aug 29, 2011 15:46:33 GMT -5
rory hoped that it was chance he had spoken to. if not then it would be quite embarrassing when rory walked towards him and saw that it wasn't him. but he was almost completely sure that it was him. it had to be him, he told himself over and over again. he had missed chance a bit, even though they weren't really friends or spoke much at all. it was weird, the friends rory did have all loved music and writing, but not art. he was the only one who had any interest in painting, drawing, sketching, anything that had to do with art. they loved the arts but they didn't have a major interest in art itself. his sister did but that was different. she was his sister, but also his best friend. rory had always wanted a friend that wasn't family that loved art as much as he did.
rory? What are you doing here?
NOT DONE.
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