Numb

Courtney's POV:

I sat on my bed sketching in my sketch book. Over the years, I'd actually gotten pretty good at drawing, and used to feel proud of my work. Now however, it astonishes and scares me. The things that my mind makes up... I don't even understand how I managed to draw it without my brain having a stroke.

I put my pencil down on my bed, staring at my new sketch. I frowned at and and in one fluent motion, ripped the page from it's binding and crumpled it up, tossing it into the depths of my room.

I sigh and stand, walking to my attached bathroom. I gaze blankly into the mirror above the sink and frown at my reflection. Why does my face have to look like that? Why the hell did god hate me? I mean, I couldn't do anything, I wasn't pretty, I wasn't smart, I had practically nothing that I was good at. It's like god put me on the earth just to mock me. So I could grow up to be that one prostitute on the streets who got no business.

I glance down at my scarred arms, covered by several band bracelets. I grab my blade from inside my inside my compact and hold it above my wrist. I always do this, I hesitate before I give in to the elite temptation of the numbness the follows the sharp pain. Ignoring my screaming conscious, begging for me to put down the blade, I slowly drag the blade across my arm. The blood pooling out of my fresh cut soothes me, and I am quick to repeat the motion several more time on my arms, thighs, hips and stomach.

"Courtney! Come down here! Quickly! Someone's here to see you!" I hear my Gran call.

I roll ill my eyes and toss my blade back into it's hiding place, before quickly running cool water across my fresh cuts. I cover them again with my many bracelets and leave the bathroom.

"I'm coming Gran!" I call back to her.

It's probably nothing. She always gets excited whenever people come to visit, almost like a dog. Don't get me wrong, I love my grandmother to death, but honestly, if it isn't someone to come and tell me that I've won the lottery, than nobody is really that important to me. Aside from him... No. I can't think about him. Besides he gave up on this family once he left.

"What is it Gran? Who is at the door?" I ask when I see no one at the door.

"We're in here!" She calls happily.

Odd, I hope she didn't invite some stranger inside the house.

"Gran? You feeling alright? Who's here?" I ask, worry lacing my voice.

I walk into the living room to see Gran and Papa hovering over a young man... Wait it can't be....

"Hey Court, it's been awhile, hasn't it?" My brother asks.

Notes

So as mentioned before, this story holds a really important meaning, blah blah blah

hope you guys enjoyed it!

Btw in case no one noticed already, it is an Andy Biersack fic