❝Goddammit! I hate you! I hate you and your dumb voice! and your stupid muscles and your awfully attractive face!❞
❝You think I'm attractive?❞
❝Fuck no!❞
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Dangerous, wild and rebellious.
Calm, cool and collected.
Darya just wan...
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Self-harm.
The thrill. The drive. Knowing the fact that you're just a little bit away from ending it all.
Knowing that all the present pain you're facing would be over with just one cut.
I was numb to this overwhelming feeling of self injury.
As I continue to stare at the knives on the table, my mind blocked out whatever my mum was saying until she tapped me.
"Darya!" She calls firmly. I raise my eyes to look at her and I almost roll my eyes when I remember what she was saying before the thoughts clouded my head. Keyword; almost.
"Do I really have to? Is it a must? We don't need this at the moment mum." I watch as she proceeds to cut the vegetables ignoring all what I'm saying but I continue talking not caring if she ignores me or not she still needs to hear my reasons and see things from my point of view.
"Switching schools isn't all that easy as you think. I've switched like—" I mentally count the number of times I've switched schools out on my hand. "Four schools in just a school year!"
"Make it five." She says nonchalantly and I scoff, earning a glare from her. Not again. Never going to let them decide what I want for my life again.
"How can I switch schools when I'm in my last year of high school?! Like I mean who does that?" I groan, flip my wavy hair behind my back and follow her anytime she moves around the kitchen. "Will I continue to switch schools anytime dad gets transferred for work? I mean, I don't even like school." I whine, playing with the utensils she placed on the counter, my gaze resting on my little brother sprawled out on the couch who was completely ignoring our interactions.
She breathes out heavily with a hand on her hip, dropping the knife.
"Something happened and your dad has to be transferred. I also don't want this but we just have to leave here at the moment." She washed her hand in the sink and turns to face me and I finally notice the lines of stress visible on her face.
Is there something no one is telling me?
"Do you think we like the way you keep changing schools? How you don't have a stable set of friends?"
"I have Celia." I grumble, knowing there's nothing I would say to change their mind.
"Darya." His deep voice startles me that I almost fall from the stool and I wonder how long he's been standing at the entrance of the kitchen.
"Yes?" I blink innocently at him hoping to change his mind.
He laughs, patting his pot belly. "Princesa, you've always wanted to go to the states. This is your chance. The freedom you've always wanted." He says, his accent coming in thick.
"Dadddd. It took me hours to do." I complain as he ruffles my hair but I couldn't help the small grin that creeps up my face.
"Like father, like daughter." My mum teases, smiling while she looks at us lovingly.
