Jilted generation

I watched as the darkness slowly slipped from my eyes. I sat upright and jumped as the soft white sheets clung to my body. I must be in hospital, I thought to myself. The white sheets, the white walls, the bright lights. I was unsure if the memories of the day that rung around my head were true. Had he really?
Yes. My wrist was still throbbing from where Mathew had stamped on it and I peered down at it. My mouth dropped open and I screamed as my eyes saw what shouldn't have been. It wasn't there, my wrist, severed off. Blood poured out of the end and stained the covers. Sheets of raw flesh dangled from the end and I watched as the crimson blood dripped off them. Drip. Drip. Drip. I held my breath and brought it towards my face, looking wide-eyed as the mangled flesh mixed with the cool air. The ghostly white bone stuck towards the end and I found what should have been connected to the end of my bony arm.

It was by Mathews feet.

He stood next to my bed, that wasn't my bed because I was in hospital, with his teeth showing through a deadly smile. He stood with a large kitchen knife in his hand that was cloaked in a jacket of warm blood. The blood was smeared on his hands and now it was soaking into mine as I tried to stop the bleeding. I looked to my clothes and down to my stomach from where my guts were laid out on the bed, twisted and turned in loops. Laced and criss crossed in front of my eyes. And then I looked up again to see my dad. My dad. Stood at the side of my bed. Next to me. Next to Mathew. Their hands held together in a handshake as my dad smiled thankfully at the kid with the kitchen knife.

"Thanks for getting rid of it!" He nodded in my direction.
"Anytime..." Replied Mathew, swinging the blooded knife around.

I screamed, yanking the covers from my body and clambering towards him. He didn't even look as I screamed in his face, shaking his shoulders violently.
"I'm here dad! I'm here!" I yelled from the bottom of my lungs.
"You know what?" My dad continued looking straight through me and into Mathews scheming eyes.
"What?" He glared back.
"I wish you were my son, instead of it." My dad replied, pulling the blood soaked attacker into a hug. He combed his hands through his hair and Mathew dropped the knife at his feet. So I was just an 'it' was I? Just an 'it'?

He continued:"your'e so much better than that worthless piece of anorexic f*cking sh*t." Each word struck my body and crushed my heart against my spine.
"Yes. Yes I am." Mathew sneered back.

I backed away slowly, supporting my weight on the edge of the bed. How could he?
And then I turned and saw Gerard. Laughing. Laughing. Did he not know that I was slowly bleeding to death in front of his own eyes. He stood in the corner his hands entwined in Franks. They were smiling as they hugged each other, tears of joy streaming down their faces. And then I saw my mum. She walked towards me, her arms outstretched: willing to hug the wreck of a boy that I was. She grew closer and closer and a little bit of pain left me as I realised that she actually cared. I walked towards her my arm reaching out in front of me. But we never hugged. She seemed to hit a glass wall and couldn't break through it, hitting her fists against the 'glass' desperately.

"Mum!" I cried through the tears, "mum help me!"
I saw her lips move but could hear no sounds escaping them.
"I love you!" I screamed over and over again, as she faded from my view, faded into the distance. Away from me. Gone.

Notes

Hi guys. Another chapter will be up soon. How you all doing? Thnks for reading, can't believe that this thing has like almost 700 views. Thats fantastic! And it's all thanks to you. (I've had Miss Jackson by P!ATD stuck in my head for the past 12 hours and I think I'm going slightly insane) :) Xx