Chapter Text
He sucked in a breath, palming the blankets. Soft. They made his wrist itch.
The ceiling fan blurred as his eyelids fluttered between sleep and misery. All he could think about was how stupid he looked: literally, as he lay in bed and figuratively, from how ridiculous he was. What a joke, he thought. What an absolute fucking joke. He wanted to scream but he contained himself, burying his hurt in his bones that, though shattered, made good prisons.
When Kayden looked at him, all the boy could make out was pity. Pity for what? He didn't know, he didn't dare think.
All his friends would leave him now. What could he even do? He couldn't stand up stoicly in the face of unfairness; fuck, he couldn't even stand. What was he worth, other than to serve as a punching bag so people worth anything could finally realise how cruel they were? He was the embodiment of the message, and his wounds beat sense into them. Not anymore.
He wanted to die not just so that his mind could be clear, but so that he could finally be anything other than himself: a burden