Baby Lashton

{sequel to Diary of A Drummer} It's one year later, Luke and Ashton are now married "happily", and they have a son, named Lashton. They couldn't decide on a name so they decided to collide their first names. Lashton Hemmings Irwin. He's for sure the cutest, sweetest child ever, but is that enough to save Luke and Ashton's relationship from jeopardy?


13. chapter 13

I lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling as the warm blanket hugs my cold body. The comfy bounce in the bed was gone. The fan was on high and my face was drained of all color. My eyes, bloodshot, dark purple rings invaded the almost white skin beneath my dull eyes.

No one was home. It's just me. All by myself in this big, echoey house, laying in this tiny room, cooped up in my tiny bed.

I feel like everyone that I love is slipping through my fingers and falling away from me. My parents, Josh, Michael and Calum. I don't think that I'll ever even be able to love.

I remember thinking that I was in love with my best friend Bea when I was thirteen. She moved a year later and I quickly realized that that's just how close I was to her. We still talk a lot. In fact, we still text almost everyday.

Hello there, the angel from my nightmare,

My life is just one big anxiety attack and I just want some type of relief.

The shadow in the background of the morgue

My life is literally turning into a big black cloud.

The unsuspecting victim of darkness in the valley.

I just don't want Bea to go next. I don't know what I'd do. I've had her since I was seven.

I don't know what to do right now. I dot know if I'm supposed to scream, or cry, or do both.

I sigh and get out of bed. The sharp stab of cold air engulfs me as my breath hitches in my throat.

I pull on my sweat pants on, as well as a long sleeved shirt. I walk into the bathroom and roll up my sleeves a bit.

I splash my face with water, trying to talk myself out of it, my the itch in my pale, scarred wrists said otherwise.

I sighed, setting myself on the floor against the door. I hung my head in my hands, staring at the floor. I've managed to go a whole four weeks without cutting. That's the longest I've ever gone.

I rub at the decorated flesh on my wrist. I ponder for a while, the itching desire to slit those old cuts back open increasing like a fast moving on coming train.

I stand up, the world slowly starting to spin around me, but quickly starts picking up speed. I grip the counter as reach above the mirror for the cold, silver, metal blade.

I took a shaky breath as the cool metal touched my ever-paling skin. I slowly began to add pressure, dragging it across quickly, so I can get the pain faster.

The dark red, liquid substance trickles out of the cut and slowly leaks onto the floor. I smile at the beautiful sight.

I made a couple more cuts, admiring the prettiness of the colour of his blood.

After I finished, I cleaned myself and the mess up, then I went to lay back down in bed and cuddled with my bear

Mr. Cuddlesworth.

I felt myself quickly fall asleep as my peaceful stated of mind slipped into gear.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...