𝙎𝙪𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙙𝙖𝙡_ 𝓢𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓚𝓪𝓶𝓲

ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟙

(A/N: In case you haven't read the description of the book, I'm going to say this is rated "Mature" because it has detailed descriptions of violence, self-harm and bullying. That being said, I hope you don't suffer from these issues and enjoy the book!

Autor-chan~)

"If only I hadn't had you!" mom yelled, beating me up for the umpteenth time.

The bruises on my back hurt more as she kept hitting them. Tears started running down my cheeks. I yelled in pain. 

Her fists punched me in the stomach, making me crawl on the floor in a desperate attempt to get away from her.

She kicked my stomach again, leaving me with no breath, leaning on my back. My eyes snapped open as I tried to cough for air and got nothing but more hits.

She never loved me as her child. No, that's incorrect. She just... never loved me.

That's all. I was alone.

Hits kept landing on my back, on my head, on my whole body, on previous bruises and in new places, without mercy.

I screamed for help a few times, voice now sore and low, my tears falling on the wooden floor.

When she got tired of hitting me she walked away, leaving me agonizing on the floor, without the strength to get up. I covered my face with both hands, crying without a sound. She would've gotten even more mad if I was noisy. Sobs over sobs shook my body, making the new bruises hurt even more.

I got up and hissed at the pain, holding my right arm with the left hand.

What did I do in my past life to deserve all this? I must've murdered tons of people to be living in this permanent hell...

I closed my eyes. The only sounds in the living room were my pants and my heart, beating fast and unstoppable, almost like I was in training. I wanted to escape all of that.

Pain... that was the way.

I heard my mother burying herself under the sheets in the other room. After a bit, I started hearing slow snores coming from her bedroom. I opened my eyes and slowly walked towards the bathroom.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror and a disgusted grimace appeared on my face. I was so ugly. I had puffy, red eyes and a scratch on my left cheek. My hair was messy and the bruises on my neck were spreading unrestrainedly.

I opened the cabinet and took out one of my father's old razor blades. He didn't use them anymore. 

Why did mom keep them? Dad left when I was a kid.

I broke it silently and took only the blade out, shoving the rest of it in the trash bin.

I stared at the piece in my hand, hypnotized. Its metallic shape was shining in the mere light of the bathroom. I let out a shaky breath and poked my arm with it.

The voice in my head was telling me to do so.

Do it.

It will hurt...

It's the only way you'll feel better.

I don't want to live in this hell anymore...

Do it.

Will I be happier?

Do it.

A silent tear was shed and fell on my arm.

I don't want to suffer anymore.

I thrusted the blade in my arm angrily and moved it, plowing my skin many times.