Hello everybody!!! I haven't created any fanfic for eight months, but l'm now starting to get back into it. I'd like to start really writing again, and Justin's going to help me get there. This story is based on my last year, l was doing most of the things Justin will be doing. Hopefully this will work as some form of therapy. The title 'Razorblade Romance' comes from the album "Razorblade Romance" by HIM. Highly recommended. I own nothing.
Justin's Thoughts The first few entirely unintentional. Canvas, X-Acto knives and the like constantly cut him when he was working. They hadn’t felt good though. They were accidental. Accidental pain, accidental loss of control. He missed the feeling of control. He had a sense of control while with Brian. The convent, those rules for fucking, was a powerful sense of control. In the end he lost it though. Suppose that’s why l left. Although this thing with Ethan isn’t working anymore either. I remember once reading about self-harming as an assignment for health class in Year 11. And l remember thinking then ‘how in the hell can anyone possibly cut themselves open to feel better?’ But now, only three years later, the concept doesn’t seem so crazy. Why the hell not? If it makes them feel better….. I swear, at first it was more my stupid curiosity that compelled me to try it. It was only small safety pins to begin with. Pushing the cold metal along the surface of my right wrist. Of course, it only actually happened after 25 minutes of mild panic and shaking hands. No blood came, but the endorphins sure as hell did. A rush of relief flooded my senses, like an intense drug. Overwhelming my body, as my entire right arm throbbed. I quickly jumped up to razorblades. It all became easier for me; l didn’t fear this kind of pain anymore. I’m not sure why exactly I’m still doing this. I guess l just want to know that I’m still… here. Justin leaned back against the wall; the razorblade fell from his fingertips. Gasping slightly, he held his arm underneath the spray, watching the swirls of water and blood on the shower floor. Hmmm, l could do something with that. Finally hoisting his arse out of the bathroom, he wandered over to the desk, picking up his roll of gauze and the leather wristband. This had easily become a ritual for Justin. Cover the cuts with the gauze; cover the gauze with the wristband. He couldn’t bear the concept of someone finding out what was going on. It was, oddly enough, incredibly easy to bullshit his way out of it. He told everyone that his physio recommended that he wear a stiff wristband to keep his hand steady. Everyone seemed to buy it, though Brian seemed a little skeptic. Ethan didn’t suspect a thing. Not that he ever thinks about anyone except for himself. Fucking asshole. Justin glanced over the clock. 5:38. He swiftly changed back into his clothes, hiding all evidence. Back to being the timid little housewife.
A bit short for a first chapter, but l needed to post something. I also need support to keep going. *rattles review box* Just one review would keep me going. Please?