Dear María

It’s been almost three weeks since I didn’t hear from Jack and it’s been eight fucking months since my life got better and I fucked up again, thanks to the guy who last night tried to beat me up again.
I was proud of myself when I remembered that I defended myself and ran away, something I wish I’d done long ago.
When I woke up after being knocked down, I realized it was Ruben who pushed me out of the way, trying to save my drunk ass. The little train was gonna stop anyways, the driver knew me, I’ve jumped in front of that train with wheels so many times. Plus, that shit went very slow.
I went back to Barcelona and retook horseriding lessons because there was a competition in five days I wanted to participate. Ruben was out right now doing some weird meet up or something like that.
I’ve been thinking about my life again. Now that I really thought about it, not even my biological mother wanted me; she had me with 21 years old and fucking left me in a hospital. I’m sure my biological dad didn’t even know I existed and, if he did, he didn’t care either. My whole life was probably a mistake.
Another thing I realized was I wished I had some good excuse why I felt so depressed. Okay, I had an abusive ex. Okay, half of my family was dead. Okay, my biological parents didn’t give two shits about me. Okay, my dad hated me. Okay, I was fat, ugly and worthless bitch and all of that. Okay, okay, but those are not good enough excuses, or I didn’t feel like they were good enough. I don’t know how to put it, it’s complicated to explain.
I finally decided to turn on my phone. Let’s see what happened whilst I was socially gone. Woah, +100 notifications. I saw loads of missed calls and text messages from almost everyone. Not to mention Twitter, thousands of mentions started to pop up when I logged in. I didn’t text back anyone or call, I didn’t even post anything on Twitter when I turned my phone off again.
I paced around my house when I walked passed a mirror and had to stop and look at myself. I was paler than before, my eyes didn’t spark and seemed to be grey instead of blue or green. They looked dead.
I moved my eyes from my face and looked at my body, rolling the sleeves of my shirt up, revealing some healing cuts on my arms. I pulled my shirt up and stared at some white lines all over my hips and stomach. I rolled my sleeves down and let my shirt down. I pushed my back against the wall and let myself slide down, breaking down at my own reflection.
I can’t do this anymore.
Ruben was far gone now and he would probably take more time, so I decided this was my last chance.
I stood up and went to my bathroom, looking for my razors desperately. When I found them I quickly smashed one to the floor and stepped on it, breaking it open because that razor had been tortured in many ways in the past and was quite breakable at this point.
I picked up one its’ thin and lond blades and sat down. I took off my shirt to get more access and started cutting tracing light lines on my arms. I was soon desperate to feel something more and pressed agressively harder, making some cuts open in an almond shape. I did the same until my arms were from my shoulders to my wrists covered in a thin layer of blood.
I sighed in relief and smiled before my vision became blurry and suddenly black.

RUBEN’S POV

After the meet up with some catalan fans of mine and anwering some questions, I headed back to María house.
María. Oh god. She was the most gorgeous girl in the planet, I swear. She was like my perfect little sister; she was intelligent, nice, beautiful, polite and she was always willing to help other people. I might as well add she was sexy as fuck. But he had her flaws as well, she was an hypocrite, she was a very good liar, and was too intelligent for her own sanity. She knew too much about life and death, and she had a very dark mind. And she couldn’t be left alone.
I rushed up the stairs as I unlocked her small apartment’s door.
“Mari!” I shouted happily. No answer.
“María?” I looked for her in the living room. No signs of life there.
My brain now thought two things: "How strange" and "Oh, please, no". I jogged to her room. No one.
“Fuck” I slammed my hand against the wall and started to pace around her room. Her bathroom.
I rushed to the bathroom and tried to open it. It was locked. No, no, no, no, no. Please, no.
“María?! Open the door please!” I begged. No response. Please, don’t do this to me.
“Please, María, open up! Knock the door or something if you’re still there, please” I cried. This couldn’t be happening. I heard Oriol say this happened to him three times; him rushing to the toilets, looking for María, and when he actually found her she was a bloody mess.
Please, I’m not ready for this.
I banged the door harder until I managed to break the lock.
I gasped at what I saw and turned to my phone and dialed 112 (Spain’s version of 911). After almost crying my lungs out to the calm girl on the phone, I heard her say an ambulance was coming.
I looked at the pale girl beside me and I tried to bandage her some of her cuts. Her makeup was running down her beautiful cheeks, now pale and sucked in. She had a very weak pulse and I knew that by the time the ambulance got here, it'd stop.
“María, please stay with me” I begged.
I couldn’t lose my best friend, not now, not ever.
But this time it felt like she was gone.

Notes

Don't kill me please?
Leave your thoughts down below! :)

Title credit: Mr.Owl Ate my Metal Worm by Destroy Rebuild Until God Shows.