Chapter 4 Panic. I hadn’t seen anyone in days. They had all taken too much time off of work or gone too long without getting in touch with friends. They left me here, they thought I was getting better. For what I could tell, I wasn’t. I was hyperventilating, crying, choking on words I didn’t have to say. There was nobody to call out to. I was alone. But I didn’t want to be. I felt unbearable pain. Never would I have thought I could move. I definitely moved.

I struggled my way to the kitchen. I didn’t know what I was doing. In that moment, I grabbed a knife and drove it straight into my arm. That was the worst possible thing I could have done. But, being the stupid excuse of a person I am, I did it. I had thought directing pain to my arm would cancel out all the rest. Boy, was I wrong. My whole body screamed at me. My punctured arm was on fire. Blood streamed from my fresh wound on the limb that now refused to move. I could feel blood loss getting to my head. I couldn’t be knocked out now.

Frantically, I ripped the knife out and sliced through my arm once more, just to stay conscious. Seizing bandages from the countertop and haphazardly wrapping them around my arm, I felt the dark liquids choke my throat once more. The legs beneath me gave way. I saw the jet-black substance splatter to the ground before I slipped away into a black void darker than it.

(ahem that one made no sense but ok)

(pleasedon'tcommentonmychains)

aa

xfcygvuh

ur fine

ooo ty