|||||TEH bedroom of death||]|
|||||Born To Run- McFly||]|
Rating: Er...15? is that okay?
Pairing: Poynter/Jones (Pones)
A/N: This is part of a longer story that I wrote, but I suppose it can be used as a standalone.
Disclaimer: Of course it's real. Would I lie to you? And now it's off to Pones-land where I hear they're selling Pones Pr0n for minimal amounts of money, anyone care to buy me some? I'll share it :D
It was way past midnight when I heard the front door go, and two voices outside my bedroom. I got up and opened the door, just as Danny dragged a giggling tart of a girl past me.
"Oh hey Dougzzzz" he slurred in his feeble attempt to whisper. "Hope we didn't wake you"
I just glared as he winked at me and pulled another of his soon to be one-night-stands into his room. I slammed my door shut, not considering the fact that Harry and Tom where probably sleeping, and let the anger boil inside of me. I swear steam was coming out of my ears. My stomach lurched and growled in pain every time I heard him through the wall, laughing to his current fuck toy that he'd picked up (probably off the streets). How I loathed him at that moment. Well...technically I loathed her. I loathed myself for letting it get to me, for letting myself fall in love with him. Oh god how it hurt, the love that I held for him. I loved his sparkling blue eyes, soft brown locks, radiant smile, gorgeous body. And to hear her, doing things to him that she had no rights to do, that I should have been doing, that I had been doing only weeks before, was killing me inside. When I heard him groan, I couldn't handle it anymore. I needed to escape. I ran to the bathroom and grabbed a razorblade. Why? I don't know. Oh what love can do to a guy. Anyway, this was when I scared myself. I took the razorblade, checked it was clean, and then put it to my arm. Not my wrist, I didn't want to kill myself, god no! I wouldn't and couldn't do it to the guys, to my family, so I placed it further up my arm, gently pressing the cool metal to my skin and shuddering under its icy touch. I closed my eyes, this was it. I just wanted to let go, release all my pain. Slowly, but swiftly, I swiped the cool blade across my tanned skin, opening it perfectly and allowing the crimson sign of life show through. I did it. I am real. This is happening. As I watched the dark substance escape from my fresh wound, I felt relief. I felt satisfied. I wanted to do it again. I waited a while. Just stood and allowed myself to leak out the juice of my life. After it stopped, I cleaned the blade under the cold tap, and pressed it to my arm again, just a little further up. I hissed as the freezing metal came into contact with my skin again. I sucked in my breath, closed my eyes, and pushed down again, a little harder this time. There was no pain in what I did, just relief. Freedom. A chance to escape. The blood trailed into my first cut, causing the forming crimson crusts to be washed away by a fresher, newer wave of emotion. I felt fresher. Newer. Better. Suddenly I found myself slicing, cutting, stabbing. The pain still not arriving, but pure ecstacy rushing through my body. As though I was invincible. When I could find no more room on my right arm, I started on my left. Slashing, Splitting, piercing. I loved the feeling.
I don't know why I was carrying on. A tiny voice in the back of my head told me to stop, told me I was killing myself, but I shut it away. I
wanted needed this. Maybe I thought if I had no blood, my heart wouldn't work, and I would stop loving him. Stupid I know, but fools will fall in love. Or maybe it was just to take my mind off him, because feeling this was far better than facing reality, than facing the fact that he doesn't love me, and he never will. Tears ran down my cheeks as I sliced over and over again. Each time becoming angrier. I couldn't feel the pain, but my body was obviously reacting to my self-harm. I don't know how long it went on for. All I remember is rolling into bed some time later, drained of tears, energy and blood.