Atlas Toren -11-

Atlas POV

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The chatter around the table became familiar to me over the past couple of days. I never really ate anything, but whenever I saw everyone’s smiling faces as the laughed together it sparked something warm inside of me. 

At first, I tried to ignore it, but it was getting harder and harder. I was snapped out of my thoughts by Magnus clapping his hands. “Alright everyone. Tomorrow we’re all going to the mall!” He smiled brightly, and I looked at him.

Slowly pointing at myself, I mouthed ‘me?’ to him. Magnus looked confused for a second, before nodding. Mhm. I- I wasn’t expecting that. I didn’t think they would want me to come with them. I had been shutting them out for the past couple of days.

 But, they wanted me to come with them. They wanted me. They wanted to spend time with me. The warm spark was definitely there. I fought to keep the smile off my face, and nodded quickly at Magnus.

The others began to clear up their dishes, and I went over to the sink to start cleaning them up. Magnus had added my name to the roster after the first couple of days, and this time I was on with Arlo. I hadn’t spoken to him as much, he was kind of intimidating.

 But not scary. I had seen enough things that scared me far more than Arlo could. As the others headed upstairs, Arlo walked over to me, his face neutral, mirroring my own. “Here. You can do rinsing.” His deep voice seemed to echo, and I felt a shiver down my spine. I looked up at him, and watched as his dark eyes moved along with his hands, veins protruding as they started to heat up.

Mine did too I guess, but I never really noticed them. I scanned my eyes over his sharp jawline, and wondered if the others were scared of him too. “Hurry up” He demanded. Shit. He must have felt my gaze. 

I forced down a blush as I moved my hands nimbly over the plates and cutlery, deftly placing them into the rinsing sink. This time, I could feel his gaze on me. I gulped. I wasn’t sure why he would be looking at me, of all people, but he was. It was then that I started fretting about how I looked, and if my hair was okay.

 I don’t know when that happened. When I started to show a little more emotion around them. When I cared more about what they thought when they saw me. But now I did. And a small part of me wanted them to be happy when they saw me. 

For their eyes to brighten, and them to run up and hug me. Like they did with each other. It was sweet. I watched every time. And every time, I wondered what it was like to be loved like that. For people to care for you. 

It must be nice. At least, they all seem content.

Snapping myself out of my thoughts once more, I looked down at my hands, watching as my veins slipped in and out of visibility as they moved around the plates. Woah. They were pretty. My eyes widened at that thought. 

“I- I’m done” I rushed, before racing up to my room. My mind was a mess. Not once had I ever thought anything like that. I had always been told I was weak, terrible, unlovable. So why was it now I started to care. 

Why was it now I thought maybe I could be loved. That maybe I looked nice. That I thought I was pretty. I- I don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t want to have to deal with those thoughts anymore. 

My hands scrambled around my room, before landing on what I was looking for. Closing the door to my bathroom, I gazed at the shiny metal in my hand. Tears slipped out of my eyes.

My vision was blurry. Raising my shirt, I didn’t dare look in the mirror, for fear that the memories of where my scars came from would return. I slid the cool metal over my skin, before making one clean sweep over the skin. 

Red liquid ran down my torso and shirt. I watched it, as the blood seeped out, before drawing another line. The dark colours contrasted with my skin, and I became entranced at the liquid now running down me.

 It hurt. I knew that. But it was all I could do to keep my thoughts away. I kept making marks over my body. The red started to dry, and I replaced it with salty tears and more blood. 

The bloody artwork traced over my sides, and I couldn’t process what I was doing. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know how to think.

My face became moist from my tears as I brought myself over to the mirror. Holding onto the side of the sink, I stared at myself. A tearstained face looked back at me, and a bloody side met my gaze. I hung my head down, disgusted by what I was looking at. 

“I- I’m sorry” my voice broke halfway through, and I could barely see. My head fell as my voice cracked, and I could barely make out any words. I was screaming in my mind. I didn’t want to have to deal with any of this. 

I didn’t want to have these memories. I didn’t want to have these scars. I wanted to be happy. I didn’t want to be falling. I didn’t want to have to deal with this anymore. I was clean for so long. And here I am. Back at the beginning. Pathetic.

 Just as I had been told. I’m never getting away from this. I’m stuck with it forever. I’m stuck with this hell following me every step. My throat began to hurt from crying, and I gazed back up at myself.

My side began to throb as my hands supported my weight. I would be stuck like this. reminded every time I looked in the mirror of what happened. Those bastards that ruined my life. Those bastards who tore me piece by piece. 

Those people who left me to rot in hell. I was a monster. Broken wings, heavy heart, a fallen angel. One that forgot how to fly. The landing is what kills you, not the fall. I was no angel. I was no god. I was a coward that couldn’t do one thing right. I let myself fall to the floor, head in hands.

Memories flew back and forth in my mind. Every emotion I had bottled up poured out as I cried. The years of abuse hurt more than ever. 

My mind was a wreck. I couldn’t make sense of anything. Trying at last to calm myself down, I slowed my breathing, lying back onto the bath mat. I stared at the ceiling as I blinked tears out of my eyes.

 My vision was still hazy as I cleaned myself. The sting was still there, but my mind was cleared up slowly, and I lay back onto my bed. My mind was filled with memories of my father and brother, if I could even call them that. 

I slowly slipped into a dark path as I fell asleep.

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