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I don’t want to be here anymore.

I don’t like this.

I can’t breathe.

Why?

Why me?

What did I do?

There’s so much pressure…everywhere.

I can’t move.

Can’t…breathe.

“That’s a good boy”

I’m going to be sick.

My heart is beating so fast, I don’t know how it’s still in my chest.

My head is pushed down and all I can smell is stale cigarettes.

I try to scream. To yell for help. But nothing comes out.

I squeeze my eyes shut and see my father standing over me, his arms crossed, angry—my mother next to him with a look of disgust on her face.

“Help! Please help me!”

They don’t even blink.

Suddenly, white-hot heat radiates throughout my entire body. It’s so painful it takes away what little air I had in my lungs.

Maybe this is the end. That’s why it’s so painful.

I deserve this.

I know I do.

It’s all my fault.

Blackness starts to take over the edges of my consciousness.

Please just take me.

I don’t want to be here anymore…