Myth High | Book I | ✔️ | FIRST DRAFT

Chapter XVIII

Quick little thing...

If you are sensitive to stuff like suicide attemots, depression, abuse, or self harm then I recommend either slipping the chapter or have a barf bag or whatever near by, because we talk a bit about this stuff.

Other than that, enjoy!!!

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Chapter XVIII

"Don't judge me by my past. I'm not in the past anymore. Accept me for who I am because this is me today."

-Anonymous

My sword was light in my hands as I attacked Xezal. Rage ran wild through my body. He was the one who took Megan from me. He was the one who caused me to be looked down upon by other Monster Hunters. He's the one who made me doubt my meaning through the world. He's the one who flung me into depression.

He's the one who made me attempt suicide.

Not expecting that, huh? Happy go lucky, sarcastic, possibly egotistical Timothy, the embodiment of care free and easy going-ness, having attempted to end his life. Yes, that happened.

After losing Megan in her comatose state, not only did Darrin lose all respect for me, but basically every other Monster Hunter. I hate mentioning it because it only resurfaces all those memories I have worked so hard on burying deep within me.

One particular incident still haunts me in my nightmares. It had been two weeks since the incident, and I was still in crutches at the time. I had just finished speaking to her, and was heading back to the lobby to see if there was any jobs for Garroth. I couldn't help because of my condition, and I was still terrified that something like that would happen again should I got back into battle.

As I was making my way down, I felt something wrap around my ankle, and I was pulled backward, making me lose my balance. My head hit the floor, and my vision doubled. I looked up to see a group of men standing over me. There were three of them, and they all looked like they belonged in a biker gang, telling me they were the group known as 'Three Devils', one of the more deadly groups. Megan had been a good friend of theirs, so I knew I was probably going back to the infirmary.

The leader, Bulldog (yes, Bulldog. we don't question it), had Darrin's whip in hand. It was wrapped around my ankle, and my foot began to go numb from the lose of blood. In his right hand was his Shotgun, which he pointed at me. His other buddies held their weapons- which were a dagger and shurikens- and I began to pray that I would make it out of this alive.

"So Timothy, what do you have to say about Megan's condition?" Bulldog questioned, pulling the whip so it tightened around my ankle.

I whimpered at the pain that shot through my head and ankle. "It w-wasn't m-my f-f-fault." I sobbed.

Shuriken guy bent down to my level. "Yes, it was. If you hadn't been distracted, then she might still be here."

Dagger bent down to my level as well. "Everyone would've preferred it to be you, Bastard."

Tears slipped out of my eyes as they continued telling me about my mistakes. Eventually, I was sobbing on the ground as my concussion grew worse. I don't know how much time had passed, but someone yelled something and the three of them bolted just as I was lifted off the ground and carried back to the infirmary.