Pain Killer

3 ~ Trampoline of Judgement

Reader discretion is advised
Trigger warning for anyone who has delt with self-harm, anxiety, or depression
(This is the only warning I'll give cuz I'm pretty sure you don't want to see this on every single chap.)

^^^^^^^

Sometimes, all you can do is keep breathing.

Just focus on breathing. In and out, feeling your heartbeat inside your chest; it's letting you know that you are still alive.

Just keep breathing. Keep breathing.

I stagger against a wall in the hallway, making my way to the bathroom. Dry tears make my eyes ache as I pull in giant breaths. My head threatens to explode, thoughts so loud they feel like throat-ripping screams in my mind.

Keep breathing. In and out. In and out.

I open the bathroom cabinet, pull down the Advil, and swallow three of the candy-coated pills dry. Ignoring the dark face in the mirror, I squat down against the sink.

In and out, in and out. I'm still alive. I know because my heart insists on keeping the blood flowing with oxygen to every part of me.

If only Ibuprofen could kill the pain of thoughts. I press my forehead against the cabinets as hard as I can, trying to push the pressure out if it's possible.

The buzz is so loud, there is nothing to numb the pain in my skull. My head spinning like a rollercoaster, nausea and dizziness overtake me.

In and out, in and out. The air comes in and out loudly, ringing in the small bathroom. It echoes back to me in a hollow tone, making me question if these breaths of air should really be wasted on a person like me.

My body protests against the pressure, doing anything it can to rid it. Shaking and huffing, my knuckles pop against the porcelain sink with my death grip. I can't tell if my eyes are open or closed. It's all just dark maroon. The air is a deep red.

Keep breathing. That's all I can do. And of course... The other thing.

I can't think of any good arguments against it, so I stand and reach for the small pair of scissors in the cup next to the toothbrushes. My cramped fingers spread the blades apart and I shakily press it against the bottom of my palm under my thumb.

It starts as a sting, lowering the deafening buzz in my head. The sting grows into blinding heat and I let out a big breath.

It'll be okay if it covers up my head's noise.

This is okay. It's just one cut.

...

My eyes open to the gray-toned ceiling of my bedroom. They immediately close as last night collapses on me and I wish sleep would bring me back into its kind arms. Forever.

Because I physically can't get up. Something like barbed wire is wrapped around my neck, holding me down.

Thoughts of last night choke me and I do nothing but breathe. Because it's all I can do.

...

An hour passes and Martha enters my room, opening the blind and announcing that I have thirty minutes before class starts.

I need fifty.

But it doesn't matter.

Pulling myself through the morning routine, my brain half awake, I sit down at the table and grab a slice of toast positioned in the center of my plate.