Prompt: Circles. A little on the nose with it but the story came to me as soon as I saw it.

Final Word Count: 798

Corey stared at the dull ceiling of his dark bedroom. He layed on his bed, butterflies fluttered in his stomach and sadness gripped at his brain like a dark leech drawing blood. He couldn’t move, not wanting to after another day going down the shitter. The muffled curses and shouts of his parents who’re arguing again, pierced the paper thin walls of the house. Corey heaved bringing a hand to his face, he wanted to cry but the tears just wouldn’t come. The day's events looped in his head, and the feelings were all too familiar.

When he woke up that morning, he was fine. Corey stretched, ate breakfast, and went out to get a walk in. No worries on his mind. He was unemployed at the moment but that didn’t stop him from trying to live, it’s the best thing he could do while waiting for an interview to come in. It would take time, a lot of it too but he was sure to fall into something. His patience was counterbalanced by those of his parents. To them it didn’t matter if he lived, only that he worked. Their persistence ate at him, like a parasite digging into his heart. The words they said were poisonous, slowing him down, his mood shifting. Corey felt his chest tighten, breathing labored. His body was cold in contrast to the warm day around him, and he broke down. The last he could remember before trudging home was stopping to sit on a park bench, breathing, and feeling the weight on his head and shoulders. He had walked in on that argument his parents were having, that didn’t help his feelings. Corey stepped through the crossfire of the two spitting venom at eachother, some of their words grazing him and cutting deep. They hadn’t noticed him pass by, too engaged in fighting eachother to care. Even when Corey slammed his door behind him. 

Corey curled up in bed, the butterflies had long since passed and his stomach had sunk, he could’nt escape his negative thoughts. He was surrounded by the things he loved, which at the right times made him feel better. However when he got like this everything made him feel worse. Whenever he played a game from his collection he felt like a slacker, lazing away and not doing enough to land a job. The unfinished drawing on his desk reminded him of how he’d never improve at his art. His posters and music were all false promises of better things to come, while being stuck in the cycle of highs and lows of life. He felt alone even though he wasn’t. Corey was afraid to reach out to his friends and family about his problems. He didn’t want to become a burden to them, and his parents' accusations about everyone made him ill. His thoughts were barely his own, replaced by the anxieties and the perception of that looping cycle.

He’s spun in it, wrapped round and round like a spider's prey. He unbinds himself, ripping his way out but is always spun back in. Corey hated these feelings, and sometimes he hated himself for having them. He wanted to end it all, but he never could. Rightfully held back by something inside. It was warm, and carried the pressure of a hug. He could feel it whenever he was down, even now at one of his worst. The feeling was akin to a match's flame, and whispered the voices and words of his loved ones. It relieved the weight from his shoulders and made the headaches fade. Corey inhaled once the pressure laid thin, his nostrils burned from the sensation. It was as if his sinuses had cleared themselves. Picking himself up he heard the familiar ping of a Discord message from his computer.

“Hey Corey, got the day off, want to meet up and hang?”

The glow from the computer lit his face up, Corey smiled and typed back.

“Sure Steph, I’ll see you in a bit.”

The message from his cousin sobered him. Corey could still hear the screams and shouts throughout the house. They passed through him, but he could still feel the impact of the empty words. They didn’t linger anymore. He took a deep breath, the shouting going over his head now. He punched the wall on the exhale.

“Fuck this.” 

Corey shot up and out of bed going straight for the door. Striding out of his bedroom, the argument was still muffled even while walking through the crossfire. The poison had expired, and their words were worthless. His parents still hadn’t cared to notice as he left the house. He slammed the door behind him, before jogging down the street. Corey kept his eyes forward wanting to feel the wind.