Heavenly's POV

I don't know how long I sat there on my bedroom floor, staring at nothing.

Time had lost all meaning.

The air in my room was thick, suffocating, the only sound was the faint humming of my big light, casting a bright glow over the disaster around me. Clothes thrown carelessly on the floor, food containers stacked on my desk, the faint smell of something rotten lingering in the air. It was disgusting.

I was disgusting.

My mind wouldn't shut up. It kept replaying everything over and over again, every moment that led me here, to this exact moment. I thought about my parents.

If I could even call them that.

My mom, with her sharp words, cutting deeper than any knife ever could. The way she used to look at me with nothing but disappointment, as if I had ruined her life just by existing. How every time I tried to reach for her, to get even an ounce of warmth, she'd push me away with a cold glare and venom-laced words.

"You're such a burden."

"Why can't you be normal?"
"Maybe if you weren't so damn difficult, people would actually like you."

My dad wasn't any better. He never hit me, not physically, but the way he ignored me hurt just the same. He was always too busy, too tired, too uninterested to be a father. The only time he ever paid attention was when I did something wrong. And even then, it was just to remind me that I was a disappointment.

Then they left.

Packed up, fled to Turks and Caicos like I was never even a part of their lives. They didn't even say goodbye. Just left money in my account every week, like I was some forgotten bill they had to keep paying. No check-ins, no "How are you, Heavenly?" No "Are you eating? Are you safe?" Nothing.

I was nothing to them.

I was nothing to anyone.

Billie...

I squeezed my eyes shut, a bitter laugh escaping my lips.

Billie was supposed to be different.

I let her in. I let myself believe that she actually wanted me, that maybe-just maybe-someone in this fucking world actually gave a damn about me. But in the end, she walked away too. Told me she couldn't do this anymore. Told me I needed to figure out what I wanted, like I wasn't already drowning trying to figure that out.

She left.

Just like everybody else.

And I couldn't even blame her.

I ruined everything. I was always ruining everything.

I pulled my knees to my chest, my breathing uneven, the weight in my chest unbearable. My hands trembled as I reached for the blade sitting on my nightstand. It was familiar, comforting in a way nothing else was.

This time, I didn't hesitate.

The first cut was shallow, just enough to break skin. The second was deeper, the sting mixing with the dull ache in my chest. My breathing was ragged, uneven, as I dragged the blade across my skin again and again.

I deserved this.

I deserved all of it.

The pain, the loneliness, the emptiness-I deserved every fucking bit of it.

My vision blurred, the edges darkening. My limbs felt weak, my head light, the blade slipping from my fingers. The world around me tilted, and before I could even process what was happening, I was falling.

Then-nothing.

Darkness.

It was peaceful.

I didn't hear the front door open.

I didn't hear the footsteps on the stairs.

I didn't hear Courtney whispering my name before she stepped into my room.

But I felt her hands on me.

Shaking me.

Desperate.

Sobbing.

I wanted to tell her it was okay. That I was okay.

But I was already gone.