Wrong

I woke up in a basement.

I woke up in a basement with a dull pain running up my arm.

I woke up in a basement with a dull pain running up my arm, and pulled a fucking 30 gauge needle out of it; the syringe was still half full.

I threw it against the wall, scrambled away. And I almost stepped on the other three empty syringes under my feet. 

It was cold; I realized I didn’t have a shirt on. I started to massage my arms with my hands, and my shoulder lit up, suddenly in agonizing pain. I winced, almost bit my tongue, and then moved my hand to squeeze it. 

And I felt a cold lump under my fingertips. 

I...I sort of lost it, at that point; I guess I was still partly under the influence... I threw open drawers, tipped over a table, and eventually I found a small knife. I felt more awake when the metal bit into my skin, despite the pain and the screaming as I dug deeper. The blood warmed me up as it flowed down my arm, spilling onto my chest. 

I stopped cutting as soon as I saw it. 

I saw the white lump through all that blood, a spongy fibrous root pushing through my bone instead of dirt. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind as to what it was. I’ve seen them before, after all. I’d been to my granddad’s biopsy appointments. 

I sank to my knees and started crying, after I’d seen that. I couldn’t even feel the pain, anymore, but that wasn’t the point anyway. I knew that I was going to be in so much more pain later. 

And the only reason I’m able to type this out right now, is because I’m more terrified of the fact that I blinked, and was suddenly home again, still shirtless, knife wound in my shoulder.

It’s...It’s an actual voice, talking in my head. It’s quiet, I can’t really pick out exactly what’s wrong with it. I

It...It wants me to go outside. It wants me to wander again, to get lost, to go drink and dance and lose myself...That’s what it’s whispering to me right now, as I’m writing this. Thank god dad’s not home, he’s away on a business trip. Didn’t even call.

It’s getting louder and louder, and I’m afraid that if I get out of this room, if I break focus for just one minute, I’m going to blink and find more needles under my skin.