Ember || B.E

4|| i'm sorry elodie

Self-Harm Trigger warning. I'll put a '⚠️' at the beginning and end.

I hate walking downstairs, but my stomach is growing and I can't ignore it anymore. Walking down the steps, my mom is sat at the dining room table. There are many textiles, paint samples, and small decor items surrounding her. My dad is sitting on the couch, watching basketball with a beer in his hands. The lighting is dim, it's dark outside and my mom has a few candles lit.

"Is Eldoie asleep?" I ask out to no one is specific as I open up the fridge.

"Yes," mom answers me while I pull out some dinner leftovers. I didn't join my family for dinner, I never do and they don't seem to miss me.

I place the food into the microwave before walking over to the table to see what my mom is working on. "This is pretty," I compliment her.

"Thanks, it's for a client's beach house. They want a light coastal feel, but nothing intense," she explains.

"What about this pattern as a wallpaper?" I question, grabbing one of the many pattern samples from the edge of the table.

"Oh, that's perfect!" Mom exclaims, setting it down on her mood board. "Why don't you get into interior design? Every time you come down here you always point out something that I approve of."

"Have you seen my room?" I raise a brow, walking back over to the microwave as it beeps continuously.

"Yes, it needs help but that's not the point. You could start off just helping me and eventually expand into having your own clients," she walks towards the kitchen island, getting more excited about the idea.

"I don't want to be an interior designer," I roll my eyes, opening a drawer to grab a fork.

"Your mom is right, it would be a perfect fit for you," dad chimes in from the couch.

"Why are you so closed off to any of the ideas we give you?" Mom scoffs.

"Because they aren't what I want to do with my life!" I accidentally raise my voice a little too loud.

"Well, what do you want to do with your life because to me it seems like you want to sit in your room until the day you die," mom spits harshly.

"God," I huff, running my hands over my face. "I've told you! I don't have the energy, the motivation, or the will to do anything. Give me time, medicate me, find me a fucking doctor if you want to help," I shout.

The sound of small footsteps on the stairs causes all of our heads to turn. Elodie stands there, a tired and concerned look on her face. "Just go back to your room and be quiet so your sister can get some sleep," mom shakes her head at me before walking towards Elodie.

"I'm sorry Elodie," I mumble as she makes eye contact with me before mom leads her back upstairs.

"Y'know, you shouldn't be eating this late," dad informs me.

"Are you fucking serious?" I chuckle with anger. "Would you rather me not eat?"

"That's not what I'm saying."

Any appetite I had now left my body. I drop the plate onto the counter before shouting a "Goodnight," as I stomp up the stairs.

⚠️

I storm into my bathroom with anger coursing through my veins. Tears brimming in my eyes. How can they be so insensitive?

I open my drawer.

If they really cared, they'd do research on depression, right?

I grip the sharp metal object in my hand.

Why can't they love me?

I pull up my sleeve, revealing the broken skin.

What would they do if they saw my arm? Probably say I was searching for attention.

Dragging it along my skin, a tear falls from my eye, a sigh of relief escapes my lips.

It's not that I don't want to get better, I just can't. I can't dig myself out of this hole.

Watching the beads of blood trickle down my arm gives me a sense of comfort.

The longer I continue this act, the more time it gives me to feel in control.

⚠️

A notification goes off on my phone, causing me to stop. It's probably Drew. I never responded to her last night. It's not like I purposefully did that, I ended up showing Elodie how to make a different bracelet and then fell asleep.

Drew: are you okay angel? i'm worried

She's so consistent. Maybe she really does care.

Ember: Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you

Drew: it's okay. are you okay though?

⚠️ I stare down at what I've just done, quickly cleaning it all up before responding.⚠️

Ember: Honestly, not really

Drew: talk to me please. what's wrong?

Ember: Just the same bullshit with my parents

Drew: from what i read in your story they are horrible people. i'm so sorry, i wish there was something i could do to help

Ember: It's fine

Drew: it's not fine ember

Ember: Well there's nothing you or me can do to change them, so it has to be okay

~~~
Billie's POV
~~~

Ember: I just don't understand. My parents had me when they were teenagers and somehow got jobs, they were successful, they are successful. Me, I don't have a kid, there's nothing holding me back and I can't even get myself out of bed

Reading the text breaks my heart in half. She isn't giving herself enough credit. Depression is depression whether you have a kid or not, if you're an adult, child, or teenager, it doesn't change.

Billie: do you live in la?

Ember: I do

Every part of me wants to hop in my car and search every single street in LA to find her. I want to hold her, tell her everything will be okay. Let her know I'm here for her. Tell her to move in and never leave. Obviously, I can't do that. My other option is calling her, if I could just hear her voice I know it would comfort me. But that means I'd have to talk, and she'd be sure to recognize my voice.

I've felt a strong connection to all my fans. They're my best friends, I feel like they know me better than anyone even though they don't really know me. Ember just feels so different. Something about her is different and I need to figure out what it is. The thought of her has been repeating itself in my head for days on end now.

~~~

Words: 1095