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What is the matter with him? He'll never know. Everyone says something different, so in return, it's hard to pinpoint exactly what is going on in that stupid head of his.
B Barefeet crunch the snow below him, hands buried in his pockets. Blue eyes stay focused on the snow below him, watching for rocks and twigs best he can. Not that he can avoid them entirely though, the white blanket covers the grassy ground, so he cannot tell what he's going to come into contact with.
He can only hope.
Wandering aimlessly is all he can do at this point, because he knows nothing else. Nothing that'll help him get from where he's stuck at right now.
Yep, that's right. Pip has hit rock bottom.
The skin near his nails is dried with blood and cracked all over. It's become a bad habit to pick at the area, yet he cannot stop no matter what he tries. It stings whenever the area rubs against the cloth that makes up his pockets. It feels like lemon juice is being squeezed into the area, stinging right down to the very core.
Pip's hair is shorter now. His sister forced him to cut it off whenever she realized how long it had become. She called him a girl and beat him with a belt, leaving red welts and bruises to cover the poor boy's pale skin.
Yet, he's the one apologising.
The brit apologizes for just about anything that happens, even if it isn't even remotely his fault. It's a bad habit that's occurred as well.
Wind blows against open skin, a shiver shooting up Philip's spine. He tenses up, walking a little faster. Jesus, he wishes he had Damien with him. Damien is warm, always radiating some heat off of his body no matter how cold or how warm the thermometer might read.
Small tears prick at the corner of the boys eyes, snot building up in his nasal passage. He knows he fucked up, so bad.
In a rage after school, after being called names and people laying their hands on him, he screamed at Damien, saying things he didn't mean.
"Oh dear, Damien I'm sorry-"
"Get the fuck away from me!" The noirette is screaming before running away, his heavy footsteps against the concrete tip-tapping away.
Pip has grown to have such a short temper, and he thinks it has something to do with his awful mental state at the moment.
What does he know, though? He's just a useless, useless boy.
His feet continue to drag him to his destination. They hurt, he can feel the soles of his feet cracking and burning, but the useless boy has forgotten shoes. There's nothing he can do about it.
A cliff lays just ahead, a drop that would kill nearly anyone. He stares, and watches. He watches the snow at the bottom sit patiently and wait to melt into water.
Jump, jump, jump
"No."
Jump, jump, jump!
"No!"
JUMP, JUMP, JUMP!
"SHUT UP!" The brit screams, gripping at his hair like it's going to stop the voices in his head that keep telling him to jump, jump, jump.
Sobs break free, screams echoing through the air. He feels like he can't do this anymore, there's nothing he can do to help himself. He knows he makes things worse, and yet, he never stops trying to fix it!
Weak legs hit the snow, and it burns. His body feels like it's on fire, but he can't move. He'd rather die here.
That's all he wants. He wants to die. Why?
Because he's a useless, useless boy.