The Blood, Sex and Booze: A boy called Kill - Strawberry.

Diary entry 01.

Saints. The lot of them. All blood sucking saints. Graceful in the eyes of all men and women alike; fetid in mine. They use their devices and certificates to win the battle, but I will win the war. Had I not been bond to the bed on which I lay I would show them just how easily they could be outsmarted. Knowledge was nothing without common sense.

I had common sense.

I knew reality was cold and meaningless, shaded by its flowers and emotions such as love. What about the less desirable of emotions? Hate, pain, fear? They were only words until you felt them. So was love.
The lonely had no place in this world. The realists were shunned and cursed for opening everyone’s eyes. It was about time they saw beyond their pearly gates of heaven and saw the hell that the world had truly become.

I’m not ashamed of what I did. I deserved it for being here and the truth had to be told; reality was a murderer. These faint lines across my body only proved it. How slowly it had driven me insane until, finally, it sliced my arteries and chased my pain away with wine.

I’ll never forget the bliss I felt as I lay and watched the tiles turn to crimson. The strangest sensation was the hazy gleefulness and the warm liquid flowing over my arms. When things finally went dark I rejoiced internally, clapped my hands and whistled a tune.

But there was no ‘white light’ and no ‘pit of hell’. I had been saved, pulled back from the grasp of death and sew up on a hospital bed.

Discovering I was alive was possibly the worst pain I had ever felt; even worse than what had driven me to madness. I was so stunned I could on weep silently. My energy was drained; my body was cold and unfamiliar. I had been torn from bliss and thrown back into the bounds of hell; my hell.

That’s the point when everything lost further meaning. I lost all emotion but pain, anger and hatred. Sadness followed later.

***

Autumn gazed at me then back to the journal. I gnawed the edge of my nail and kept my head down, concentrating hard on the pattern of my creepers.

“You wrote this?”

I nodded. “In the hospital, when my muscles had returned some movement I just had to write something.
So, that just….existed.”

“It’s very raw Billie. Very powerful and rather disturbing.” She flipped through the rest of the book, uncovering doodles and pieces of scrap writing, “That’s all you’ve written about the event?”

“Yeah.” I mumbled.

“ Can you perhaps explain a little more for me?”

I sighed.

***

When I got out of the hospital for my damaged ribs I retreated back to my reclusive life style. Mike kept asking me about what happened and I ignored his bitterly. The look he had given me when Tre had told him had cut deeper than any knife. He continued to go to work but without me. And I was glad.

I still didn’t eat, I couldn’t keep anything down. It was as if my body was punishing me for being such a fucking waste of space.

When I was alone I started to hurt my self. I would sit on the edge of the bathtub, pull down my bed pants and slice a new line of cuts every day. I went deeper and deeper just begging to feel something. But it was no use. I was dead inside. I pushed the pointed tip of the razor into my thigh and slowly dragged it across the pale skin. A gaping wound soon formed, the blood pooling to the surface and dripping on to the tiles below. More often than not I had to use butterfly stitches to close the cuts, if I hadn’t I would have bled out.
I moved to my stomach and then to my arms soon after. The skin was shallower and the blood was more of an orange tinge. It stung unlike my thigh. The small spurts of pain was like a drug, it rushed through my body, my heart beat faster and I could see my pulse in the flowing blood.

Even now, as I look at the scars, I can remember the feeling behind each. The motivation and the story.
Mike and I never made love, he tried to touch me and comfort me but I abruptly pushed him off. So, it’s safe to say he never noticed. However, inevitably, he noticed my weight.

“You need to eat something baby.” He would coo.

I simply rolled onto my side and ignored him.

The final blow, the moment I felt all hope was lost, was one evening Mike came home from the studio. He swore and yelled at me. Told me I was being an idiot for laying in here when I had absolutely nothing to be depressed about. He accused me of not loving him and then he gripping my arm. I winced from the pressure, pulling away from his grasp.

“W-what?” Mike looked confused.

I cowered away from him and pulled my arms across my chest.

“Billie, what’s going on?”

He gently reached forward and pulled my arms apart. The sleeves were rolled up before I could stop him, my pale, scarred flesh on full show. He pushed me away as if I were some sort of horrible monster and stared at me through horror struck eyes.

“What the fuck Billie Joe!? Are-are you crazy?! You want to kill yourself then go ahead. I’m done. I can’t take you shit anymore.”

He strode from the room, the door slamming behind him.

****

“It’s not play for play but its close.” I whispered.

Autumn scribbled furiously onto her notepad, her mouth pulled into a frown and her eyebrows lowered in concentration.

“D-do you want me to go on?”

“If you feel that you can.” She answered.

****

It took me half an hour to compose myself. Sometimes I wish I never had, other times I wish I had spent longer getting myself together. Maybe then I would have succeeded.

Everything was lost, without Mike I had nothing and at the end of the day I had been the one to drive him away. I didn’t deserve to live.

I could talk about the emotions going through me in those moments had there been any but there was nothing; my body was entirely numb. All I knew was the anguish I felt and the overwhelming desire for everything to just end.

***

“What more do you want me to say? I went to the bathroom, slit open my wrists,” I held my arms out to her and indicated to the largest of the scars, from wrist to elbow, “and waited. Okay?”

“I understand it’s hard.”

“No. No you don’t. You don’t need all these details. Long story short; I wish I was dead. There! Is that what you want?” I began to weep, “This is too much.”

“What is?” Autumn asked calmly, she leant forward in her chair and rested her head on her hand.

“Reliving it. You have the details; you know what happened when I got to the hospital.”

“I know.” She sighed, “Do you really want to die?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then why say it?”

“I don’t know.”

Autumn sighed heavily and tapped her pencil against her note pad. Her expression was pensive; her lip was being gnawed in concentration. She had something on her mind; I knew it and I didn’t like it.

“We need to speak to Mike. Both of us.”

“What?!”

“He needs to know the truth if you are ever to return to a semi normal life. Please, at least think about it?”

I neglected to react. She called the nurse and I happily excited the room, leaving her in complete suspense of my decision.