The Last Week Of Candy

The Last Week of Candy- Chapter One

Chapter One

My body ached as I sat up wearily in my bed; my arms still had that unpleasant sting they always did when they were repairing.

I shut my eyes quickly, trying to ban off the disturbing memories of yesterday’s relapse. I swore to myself I would stop cutting. But lately the urge has just become stronger and stronger, if only they could leave me alone.

I threw my covers off onto the floor. The sudden cold from my room wisped around me, sending chills down my body. I shivered, and walked up to the window, to my surprise, it wasn’t snowing. Angry I shut my blinds and turned off the fan. The cold, dark wood floor pressed against my feet, making me wish my slippers still fit.

With a sigh I walked across the short hall to the bathroom, grabbing bandages from the First Aid Kit.  I held my arm up to look at the cut for the first time since last night.

The cut had been scabbed over with dry blood; the cut began at beginning of my wrist and about four inches down and drifted sideways on my left wrist, masking over past incidences that had scarred.

With one last sigh, I unfolded the white cloth bandage, wrapping it around my wrist, overlapping the wound thoroughly. Making sure I didn’t wrap it too tightly as I outstretch my hand, taken aback by the sudden pain. I gasped, rubbing my wrist lightly.

I took a deep breath in and walked back into my room, stepping over to my stereo, turning on the volume before walking over to my closet, glaring at my slim selection.

I yanked a plain yellow zip-up hoodie off its hanger and threw it on my bed. The stereo’s bass lightly vibrated the room; I hummed along to the music, trying to drown my worries about the school day to come. Walking over to my plain oak wood dresser, snatching up a white knit tank, that had a elastic hem about middle ribcage and flowed down. I took a pair of dark skinny jeans too, and quickly threw them on, putting on the tank top next and then the jacket over, hurrying to the bathroom to brush my hair.

I glanced at my straightner, tempted to use it, but refrained. I was running late, and I didn’t have anyone to look good for anyways, so it was useless.

Sighing I went back into my room to collect my backpack. Walking over to the side of my bad, double checking in my head to make sure I did all of my due homework.

Sombody started banging violently on my door. I glanced up, clenching my fists, preparing for what's coming.

"TURN THAT DOWN!" my mother slurred, bursting threw my closed door.

I glanced sheepishly at the bottle in her hand, and darted over to turn the volume down.

My mother narrowed her eyes, forming  an angry glare. I looked down quickly to try to avoid it, trying my best not to yell back. 

The glass liquor bottle slipped out of her hand, causing one big crash on the ground. I let up a sigh, thankful none of the pieces flew and cut me like they did last time.

"Clean it up." My mom glared once more, her words slurring dangerously too much. She turned and stumbled down stairs.

I sat back, banging my head against the wall.

"Life sucks." I mumbled, waking over to my closet to grab the broom and sweep it up under my rug for later.  

I slipped a pair of vans before heading down stairs, the doorbell rang right on cue. I ran to open it, Kristen was standing there ready to go. 

She smiled. "Ready?"

I dont know why she was always so happy. School days where always miserable.