My hands are shaking, I realize as I press my back against the door in defeat, having slammed it closed behind me.

Don't follow... My heart is racing and I'm practically hyperventilating. I reach up, tangling my awkwardly twitching fingers in the loose strands of my bangs. I'm overcome, and I don't even know what emotion(s) I'm feeling. Calm the fuck down, kid. My eyes feel heavy and despite doing my damnest to distract myself my breathing rate has accelerated to panic level and to the point that after every few breaths I take there's an audible grunt of pain from trying to stifle everything down. Damnit, you're not gonna cry. Because who would listen if you did?

Daddy#1 has tried to kill you on multiple occasions. He thinks you're a rather amusing punching-bag. You never fight back. He wishes you were never born. He's a fucking pothead too, for Eran's sake.

He's a fucking hypocrite.

With a groan of anguish, I clench my eyes shut and rake my fingernails down my face roughly, unable to feel any sort of release from the attempt nor the slightest of pain and beyond caring if I split my skin. Go ahead and create a few more scars. See if anyone else notices.

Daddy#2 only cares about his other son. He thinks you're rather useless now.

You're a rebellious street junkie with no future. And a rotten attitude.

Who hears nonexistent voices. And fucking hallucinates.

He doesn't love you.

I slam the side of my right fist against the door behind me with as much strength as I can presently muster up; a loud crack resounding as a hole forms in the frame of the door. I inhale sharply, feeling the now-loose pieces of wood that have jammed and splintered their way into my hand. Way to go, you suicidal masochist. I grit my teeth unable to immediately pull my fist away from the door, and am relieved to find that no one comes running at the noise of the door being broken. You weren't actually hoping they would, were you? With a few short audible gasps of pain I wrench my fist away from the door clenching it tightly in my lap as my knees give out and I collapse into a seated position on my bedroom floor. I could have broken my tailbone in the process for all I'm aware, the only thing I can feel is the seering pain in my right hand. That's going to cause an infection... I'm breathing harder now, more from the adrenaline rush than anything, I notice, bringing my uninjured hand to rest on my forehead and resting my head back against the door with a soft thunk. There's a dull pain forming behind my right eye. You mean the one with the permanantly dilated pupil, you freak? My stomach's twisting too, and I haven't even eaten anything since breakfast. Emotions... They really fuck me up. Not just mentally, but physically too. I swallow a few times trying to ignore the feeling. You know what would fix you up? Take a hit. Of something.

Anything really. My first choice is cocaine, y'know. You know you want to. You're withdrawing again. Of course I'm having another withdrawl attack. I haven't had even a lick of any of that shit in two or three days now. I've been trying to use less often mainly for the fact that it bothers most of my "housemates" and my old man continues to rub this fact in my face, even though he's secretly still smoking pot in spite of it all. I even cut back smoking cigarettes - I've never done that before. And you've been an irritable little shit these last few days, haven't you? Hikariko's noticed. Especially since the first thing I do in the morning isn't to light up or snort something, it's become to force myself into stomaching some sort of breakfast. He's never tried to tell me whether or not I should or shouldn't be using drugs, but I'm rather on-edge and guarded when I'm sober. It's because you're paranoid. And who wouldn't be when he dreams about killing himself every night. Or killing the people closest to him. And he's still having nightmares about his girlfriend's death. No thanks to Pops who's fucking forgotten it all. And has no idea how much it still hurts. Or of all the times he's been fucking shot trying to feed his fucking addiction. Of how he'd probably be dead by now if Tambourine Man hadn't saved his ass countless times. Or how he's lost his daughter twice because the courts don't think he's safe and if they could catch him they would have thrown him in jail again. And he's afraid that Kryssie will try to corrupt her if she gets her hands on poor Ani. And all the other shit that people can't even begin to imagine. I've woken up from a couple of dreams to find that I'm either crying, bleeding, or that I'm going to puke. And sometimes all of the above. It's why I started using to begin with. I wasn't having nightmares. I wasn't trying to kill myself in my sleep. There weren't fucking nonexistent people standing over me telling me to do shit that would hurt the people I care about.

And one of these days you're just going to snap and obey them, aren't you? Hikariko...he's one of the reasons I haven't snapped yet. He says that sanity is overrated and that no one has the right to tell me that I'm insane. All the hallucinations just...stop when he's around. He's not a very good influence, is he? He's got his scars too. You've seen how deep some of them are. He's got a higher likelihood of killing himself than you do. And you don't even know why someone like him could feel the way you do. He saved you from shooting yourself in the head for a second time. Oh, but the trip to Hell was so much fun the first time, wasn't it? Watching Uncle Lucas beg Erasphius to give you a second chance for Alastron's sake. Lucas has been more of a father to me than Alastron has. He understands where I'm coming from. Being unable to live up to people's expectations and all the bullshit that goes along with it. He went out of his way to try to reason with me when no one else was listening. Lucas is too busy with his fiancee to care about you anymore. What about that MK chick, did you ever decide what you felt for her? She reminds you of Miza, doesn't she? But she's more your type, right? Commitment scares you, doesn't it? You don't wanna be with her, you just want to fuck her. And she's perfectly okay with that. Have you told your fiance that even though you've proposed you don't plan to marry him?