I'm Still Breathing

five

I storm off and walk outside, hailing a cab to get me back home. As I enter the house, my dad is watching his favorite TV series. I run upstairs, although-

"How's your da-" my father says, but I cut him off

"Zip it. I don't want to talk about it." I snap, sending a glare that I don't want to talk about my day. My dad shrugs and turn his eyes back to the TV. I run to my room and throw my bag on the bed. I rush to the bathroom and grab my blade. Another one...

You have seven cuts already, and counting. My subconscious tells me.

That's enough! Your beautiful skin will be destroyed! Concealer couldn't cover those horrible scars! My inner goddess shouts at me.

I push my horrid thoughts at the back of my mind and cut my skin, again and again, drowning the sadness away. I shake my head, not receiving pain the way I want it to be; to help me to feel alive. Why would life be such a bitch? I've done everything just to make my life picture perfect. Why would life repay me like this? I've never hurt a person; I never done anything just to make someone's life hard.

As I washed my cut, I stripped of my clothes and take a cold shower to numb my body. Second by second, memories come back in a flash.

Fuck.

Hadley was there, well whatever. She's nothing to me because she started all of this. I swear, if she didn't approached the couple, this would've happen! I should expect it already, knowing Hadley, how she acts and impulses are.

I wipe myself with a towel and put on my clothes. I run downstairs and head to the kitchen. My dad is still watching a TV series that I should've introduced to him. I clearly remember that he loathes watching a series that isn't complete like Sherlock or How To Get Away With Murder, yet it seems like he's enjoying every single bit of it. He's an inch from falling from he's seat from anticipation.

Although, I ignore him and he ignores me. I'm not in the mood to have that father-daughter bonding and it seems like he's too. I open the freezer and grab a tub of ice cream, chocolate chip. I head upstairs holding ice cream and a silver spoon. Well, call me depressed, but this is my impulse.

"I'm going to eat the ice cream." I shout, before locking the door of my room. I sit on my bed and open the television. Ah, right on time. Old episodes of How I Met Your Mother is on.

As I hear the car park in the garage, I turn the volume of the television up. I hear footsteps running the stairs, getting louder as the seconds tick by. I look down at my hands and see the tub of ice cream is empty. I shrug and head to the bathroom and brush my teeth.

"Margo! Margo!" I finally hear Alec shout, slamming his fist on the door. "Open the goddamn door!"

"Margo! We need to talk to you!" Hadley shouts back, making me roll my eyes. Thank god mother is at her work! She will let out her inner beast at us for making a ruckus.

"Alec, Had, Go? What the hell is happening up there?" My dad shouts from downstairs. Why is everyone shouting? "Is everything alright? I'm watching Sherlock again and I don't understand them with your ruckus. Would you please keep it down?"

I finish brushing my teeth and immediately hide my blade in my wallet. Nobody will suspect a thing. I walk to my bed and grab my concealer. I put a generous amount on my scar.

"Margo! Open the goddamn door!" Alec shouts and continues pounding his fist on the door.

"Fuck off!" I shout back.

I hear the jiggling of keys and the door suddenly burst open. I close my eyes and lie down. I look at my wrist and continue rubbing the concealer until it blends onto my skin color. It hurts  that I'm reopening my cut, but they mustn't suspect a thing. They must know that I was telling the truth in the mall. I pull the covers to my head and feel it being rip out of my grip.