He didn't know when it started or how it happened but it did.
Have you guys ever felt so miserable to the point that you only wanted to just disappear, die, just die?
***
In a room full of darkness, a boy was sound asleep.
There was a clock on the wall across the bed.
Tick-tock.
Tick-tock
The clock ticked as the time passed by.
On the right side of his bed was a table where a phone was laying on it.
After a few minutes, his phone alarm ringed loudly.
Ring~!
The boy stirred in his bed from left to right and ignored the alarm.
As if the alarm was testing his patience—it ringed louder and never stopped ringing—vibrating loudly on the wooden table.
The boy finally opened his eyes with a groan.
"Fuck, will you just shut up?!" He slammed his arm on the table and grabbed the phone, turning off the alarm.
Then he felt a sharp pain in the arm that he slammed on the table.
"Argh, tsk."
He brought his phone next to his face and turn it on.
He check the time.
[5:09AM]
"I woke up once again, huh?" The boy said with a bitter smile on his face.
He sat up on the bed.
He looked at the empty bottle of pills on the table and muttered. "Effective my ass..."
He then remained silent for a couple of minutes, staring at nothing without saying anything.
"Why can't I just die in my sleep? Why do I have I have to keep waking up when I just want to die? Answer me , oh God." He said as he looked up at the ceiling of the room.
He got no reply.
He chuckled.
"Of course I get no reply, I even wonder if you really exist."
He sighed and stood up.
He walked towards the mirror that was attached to his wardrobe.
He stumbled on some stuff along the way since it was dark. "Tsk, I really need to clean my room."
He finally stopped in front of the mirror.
He was met with a face he always hated ever since he was born, he hated it so much.
Brown eyes stared back at him.
He was brown skinned like peanut butter and curly red her.
His body was so skinny as if he was starving for weeks and was full of bruises, in every part of his body.
His face was below average when it came to beauty standards.
Fat nose, hollowed cheeks, bad jawline and a face full of pimples.
Once he never cared about his but now—
"Fucking ugly bastard." He cursed.
As if staring at himself any longer would make him want to pukw he turned away.
He walked away and turned on the lights.
His room was a mess, clothes everywhere , boxes of fast food filled the room.
He never really like going out and was too lazy to cook so he preferred to order.
"I should really clean this place but I'm too lazy and what's the point of cleaning, no one visits me anyways."
He entered his bathroom and turned the shower on. He waited for it to get hot since it was winter.
He stepped in the shower.
The warm water rained on him.
His bruises tickled and hurt but he endured.
After cursing for a few more times, he stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his body.
His body ached with every step he took.
He stood in front of the mirror on the wardrobe and took out a school uniform. It was white with blue stripes.
"Why do I have to go to schoo? Fuck, can't I just stay rotting inside my room?"
"Pfft, it is also funny how I'm still alive after drinking all those pills at once, I thought I would finally die but fate has different plans for me..."
"Oh, and fuck google."
He had searched on google about what kind of meds if drank in large amounts would cause someone to die.
He had found many of them on google—so he bought all of them yesterday and drank it all of them at once before going to bed.
He was so excited, expecting to finally die and leave this damned world of suffering and pain.
But of course nothing happens as planned in this accursed world—he survived somehow.
It was impossible, the amount of meds he consumed would have killed a normal human being instantly. He felt no after-effects other than his bruised body hurting and the feeling of depression that dwelled inside his heart , he felt nothing.
"Oh, leg me guess, other than having a fucking monstrosity of a face, I now have a body immune to meds?"
He chuckled and laughed like a mad person.
"Fucking, hilarious... don't you think?" He turned towards his left and someone stood there.
A boy with the same hair colour, yes and body—himself.
"Yeah, I agree Bradley." The other him chuckled as well.
Yeah, well, he's batshit crazy.
"You know I hate when you call me by name, it creeps me out." Bradley said.
"I'm you, I don't know what's wrong calling you your name."
"Yes, that's why, because you're me , that's why it's weird. Wouldn't be weird to you seeing another version of yourself calling you by your name with the same voice as yours?"
"Okay, you have a fair point." The other Bradley shook nodded.
Bradley always wondered where did the other him came from.
Ever since his parents passed away in a tragic accident.
The other him appeared.
He knew he was crazy, that was a fact.
But the other wasn't just an imagination—he once thought it was a way to cope with his trauma and depression.
Since he was alone, he started having the habit if talking to himself to cope with the loneliness.
They say a person who talks to themselves, it's a sign of greater intelligence. In order to sort their thoughts and to solve a problem, they talk to themselves they are able to process things much faster and find a solution.
He first didn't believe it but later on started to make sense, because he was very smart because of it. Able to solve any type of academic problem at school. Securing the number 1 rank in his school.
However, he never saw another version of him back then, only after his parents died.
"Shit, I really became crazy." Bradley muttered.
"Yeah you did." The other him agreed.
"Now move your ass, we've got school."
"Tsk, don't say as if you really attend school. You're just hanging around me like a ghost." Bradley cursed.
"Same thing."
Bradley shook his head and finished dressing, grabbed his bag, his phone and got out of the room.
As he closed the door of his room, he stop mid-way, right in front of him—across from his room was his parents room.
He had a dad look on his face—even the other him.
He always blamed himself after his parents death because the night before they travelled and djed, he had fought with them over a silly argument. Causing his parents to leave way earlier than they intended.
The next day, he had Already regretted and wanted to apologize to them but he was never able to—he received the devastating news later that day, that they died in a car accident.
That's why he hated himself.
He hated everything.
If only...I didn't get angry over something so simple, maybe they would have survived...what a fucking piss of shit I am.
A single year ran down his cheek.
He stood there for a couple of minutes and then he turned.
He cleaned his year and started walking through the corridors of the house.
The other him who normally makes fun of him whenever he can didn't say anything this time.
As he walked through the corridors, he passed many portraits of him and his parents on the walls.
He walked down the stairs. His home was lavish. His parents were reach after all, owners of a billionaire company.
The maids and servants in the house greeted, he just nodded and passed them.
The servants opened the huge doors of the mansion.
Outside, a black limousine with smoked windows was already waiting for him alongside his personal butler.
"Morning, young master Bradley." The butler spoke with a french accent.
"Morning Vuitton." He greeted back the butler.
Vuitton had gray hair and blue eyes. He was a butler that worked under his parents for years even before he was born. So he liked him very much.
"Did you eat young master?"
"Ah, no, I'm not hungry."
"But you should eat, look at how skinny you are becoming." Vuitton grabbed his wrist and wrapped his two fingers around it.
It was loose, he was too skinny.
"What do you think your parents will think of me if I'm not taking care of you properly?" Vuitton's back trembled.
Bradley stood silently. His left hand held into a fist.
"I know it's hard, losing your parents when you're only 14 years old but please don't harm yourself." Vuitton begged.
Bradley slightly trembled at his request.
He felt guilty at seeing this old man trembling like that.
He sniffed back a tear.
He nodded. "Okay, I will do so, so please don't cry."
"Thank you..." Vuitton cleaned his tears."how unprofessional of me."
He opened the limousine's door for Bradley to get him.
He droved through the mansion cobblestones untill the gates.
Bradley just sat there quietly, looking through the window.
The other him sat across his left.
The only thought that passed through his head at the moment was:
I want to die.