The Last Letter (Rewrite)

Chapter 1

The second I walk into the house that I was raised in, the evil witch a stranger would call my "mother" yells at me. I ignore her, walk up the stairs, walk into my room and close the door. She continues to yell with her screechy voice but I don't hear what she says.

I walk over to my stand and turn on the radio. I turn on a My Chemical Romance CD and turn the volume up to its maximum. I honestly didn't do anything to deserve being yelled at. I walk in the door and next thing I hear is that I'm the reason Dad got into a car crash. It's also my fault she can't get a rich boyfriend so we can move out of this crummy house.

Sure Mom. My bad. Always my fault, right? Right.

I solemnly walk over to my desk drawer for the first time in about a month. I made it a rule that I would never use this pencil sharpener for anything more than sharpening pencils. However, rules are meant to be broken.

I pick up the utensil and it feels like it weighs a ton. I slowly grab my screw driver and unscrew the sharpener blade from its place. I turn my arm over and see where the blade has marked its territory in the past.

I touch the blade to my wrist and push down. As the piece of metal marks my skin with its deadly teeth I sigh a breath of relief. I immediately see the heads of red escaping my skin and I smile.

I can feel my drowning lungs breathe a breath of fresh air. "I'm sorry," I whisper under my breath. "But rules were meant for breaking."

****

My eyes bolt open and I sit up right in my bed and look over at my clock. As my vision returns I see that it's almost 5 in the morning. I look over to my right and find the blade is still in my hand. On the opposite forearm and wrist are new cuts and dried blood.

I honestly figured this would happen. I blacked out. When I black out my body goes into a rampage and doesn't stop its previous task until my body shuts down. That's what happened last night.

I stand up off of my bed and walk into the bathroom. I turn on the water and step into the shower. I begin to wash off the dried blood when I sigh. "God dammit, Coraline. You promised yourself. You promised Adrian."

Oh fuck, Adrian. My one friend who cares about my mental and physical condition made me promise I would never self harm again. Fuck!

I finish washing and all the necessities so I step out of the shower. I dry off and walk back into my room to get clothes. After dressing I grab my phone and text Adrian. I tell her what happened as I choke back tears.

She texts me back instantly and I smile. She isn't disappointed or angry. Only feeling she has right now is worry. Adrian is better than any therapist. Therapists don't understand that we don't need medication, all we need is a hug so tight that it puts our pieces back in place.