Even though I’ve said that they’re a part of me, it doesn’t mean that it’ll hurt any less when those monstrous thoughts crossed my mind.

Every single time when it crosses my mind, it hurts so much. So so bad. It’s so bad to the point that painkillers does not help. So, I’ve resort to slitting myself. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, it’ll help dull the pain. Possibly numbing the pain.

With barely any sanity left, I took out my trusty old penknife from the first drawer of my bedside table. Drawing the silvery metal out from its red confines, I watch as light bounces off its smooth metallic surface.

Without any interruptions, I push the pointed tip of the knife into my porcelain-like skin. Feeling nothing, except for the ache in my heart, I continued the daily ritual of drawing lines across my pale milky skin, watching it breaks apart as blood ooze out.

It hurts.

Lines after lines, I see red liquid flowing majestically out from the cuts, the red angry lines then draw trails on my wrist as it makes its way down and onto my uncarpeted bedroom floor.

Drip after drip, blood after blood; I can feel the ache in my heart dulling little by little.

But it’s not enough.

As I continued drawing even more lines across the underside of my left forearm, with some cuts intercepting the others. As drips of blood slowly turns into rushing lines full of blood down my wrist, joining the party pools full of red on my red-stained floor.

I admired the contrast of red between my penknife cover and the blood that was elegantly, but quickly flowing down my bloody wrist. I can finally feel the dull ache in my chest numbing.

It’s still not enough.

Deciding to abandon my daily ritual, I went for deeper cuts instead. Holding up the tip of the already blood-stained knife, I dug it in deeper into the cuts, reopening old wounds as blood ooze out at a faster pace. The rushing pools of red that had quickly gather on my forearm as well as the ground, reminds me of the bustling of people on the subway.

Ironically, that’s the place where I first met him; the only cause of the indescribable pain I’m feeling. Yet, he was also the only source of the wordless happiness I’ve felt three months ago.

The more I’ve thought about it, the more a certain ache crawl at my heart, making itself known.

Why isn’t this pain fading away like the rest?

Getting up, I feel a wave of dizziness hit me. Almost tumbling back down on my bottom, I steadied myself while holding onto my bedside table. With one hand, I rubbed at my temple, hoping to soothe it a little while closing my eyes.

After a while, I opened my eyes to the sight of my dancing bedroom. Groaning, I stood up with wobbly legs towards my bathroom cabinet, where all my medications are stored.

There was a series of knocking on my door whist I continued making my way towards the bathroom.

Be unknown to the trails of blood still trickling down my forearm, I locked the bathroom door upon entering it.

The never ease amount of knocking at my bedroom door increases, causing an upcoming series of headaches.

Irritated, I gathered the last few ounces of energy as I shouted an annoyed “SHUT UP!” at the intruder. Instead of the normal silky-like voice, what came out from my throat was a pathetic raspy-like whimper.

Maybe my mind’s playing tricks on me again, I don’t know. I can never be sure anymore, after these past few weeks of hallucinations and scenarios that my minds has often made up, I can’t really trust my sense of sight anymore. But I was quite sure I’ve heard Chanyeol’s calls of “Open up, Baek!” with a continuous series of knockings.

I ignored the once familiar fluttering in my stomach as I tried taking out the strongest painkillers I can find. Popping open the cap, I poured several pills onto my trembling hands while others rolled onto the floor. Without glancing back once, I swallowed the pills along with the tap water that I had dunked into my mouth within seconds.

“I miss him…”

My legs gave way as I slumped onto the ground. I can already feel my energy depleting. I closed my eyes as I feel my consciousness leaving me. Right before losing my senses, I can feel a fat lone tear escaped from my right eye as it slowly trails down my cheek bone, my cheeks, the side of my mouth as it disappeared underneath my chin and onto the bathroom floor; as the voice I’ve desperately been wanting to hear filled my ear.

“Baek-ah! Where are you!?” His alluring deep, rich voice called out.

“Ahh.. Even my ears have betrayed me.”

“Baek-ah! Baek! Where are you!?” That alluring voice called out again.

“Could this actually be real?”

“Baek-ah! Please come out! This isn’t funny!”

“No… This couldn’t really be him… right…?”

Shadow loomed on the exterior of the bathroom door and the contact of fists upon the same door could be heard.

“Baek! Baek! I know you’re in there!”

“After all those times… Did he really want… to see… me?”

Bubbles began forming in my stomach as they rose up and out of my throat. The taste of iron lingers at the tip of my tongue, as I got into a coughing fit.

“Baek! Come out! Please…!”

The banging of door became even more vigorous as his pleas became even more desperate. The shadow that loomed over my bathroom door disappeared as my coughing fit became even more unbearable.

“Am I… going to end, just like this?” I thought aimlessly.

“This is what you had wanted, isn’t it?” A voice in the back of my mind retorted.

I tried pondering over that question as best as my dazed mind abled me to.

“I had only wanted to numb the pain I was feeling…”

“But doesn’t dying numb the pain for you for eternity?”

I thought for a moment, “Do dead people feel pain?”

“No, they don’t, do they.”

“Then, isn’t it better? Death shall numb your pain for eternity. So you wouldn’t have to slit yourself all the time. It gets tiring after a while, doesn’t it?” That same voice in my head taunted.

While I was still considering the silent invitation, I can hear the sound of things breaking outside the bathroom. My headaches worsen.

And I have decided my answer.

I closed my heavy eyelids shut as I attempt to pick up any noise outside.

Heavy footsteps. And heavy breathings.

I can practically see him running in my bedroom panicking, behind my closed eyelids as blood started soaking the white skinny jeans I’m wearing.

I smiled, the first genuine one since the past few months.

Death, may just be a beautiful thing after all.

A/N: Hello ! So, how is this ? (: