My Answer is You

5. Please Don't

As Kendra towered above me, she grabbed my wrist and I winced aloud. A wide grin spread across her face as she tilted her head to the side like the maniacal freak she is. She started to dig her nails into my wrist and I yelped. Her eyes held a lust for blood and it grew when a warm, red fluid started to trail down from my wrist to my fingers. Small crimson puddles started to form below us. Then she began to dig her nails in deeper and an urge to scream overcame me, "Stop! It hurts!"

But she didn't stop. She dug in more--so much so that I even tried to fight back but she yanked me towards her and swept her left leg around my legs and made me trip backwards. I fell so hard on my back, my life started to flash before my eyes. She pinned me down and grabbed my other wrist, which remained unharmed. Before she began to use the same torture tactic on my wrist, she spotted something nobody was supposed to see.

"Please...don't," I weakly pleaded her.

"What's this?" curiosity struck her and she found interest in what I was trying to hide.

While she sat to my side, she held up my arm and gently pulled my sleeve down. I had prayed to God that nobody would ever live to see what hid behind my sleeves, but I guess praying doesn't work well for nobodies like me.

Kendra stared at the marks I had all over my wrist up to my elbow. These marks were fresh from last night. They hadn't seemed to fade in the slightest, but they were finally starting to heal. And I knew that Kendra was going to use this chance to never let them heal again. I winced audibly and her eyes slowly made their way to mine.

The look in her eyes didn't tell me she was satisfied with my chaotic case of self-harm, nor did her eyes have a hint a sign of sympathy in them. Instead, her golden orbs were simply locked on my dark brown ones.

Suddenly, I felt as if I was being stabbed in the back repeatedly.

The look in her eyes expressed an utmost disgust for me.

She looked as if I was a distorted being that would eat her alive.

She got up and stepped away from me--she didn't even bother to finish hurting me with her torture tactic. It seemed that all interest to hurt me had been sucked out of her. Now I was finally seen as a disease to her.

The bell rang and all the students outside were getting ready to head inside for their next class. Kendra walked to the door of the classroom and put her hand on the doorframe.

She turned her head and stared me down with her piercing, golden orbs and said, "Who the hell does that to themself?" she asked rhetorically, then continued, "Oh I know. A freak. How lonely and miserable are you that you've gone to the point where you hurt yourself? It's the job of other people to hurt you. But that--" she emphasized on the word that; "--that is insanity."

Her words shot through me like a bullet.

Its Kendra. Of course she would say demeaning and hurtful things about something like self-harm. But, I didn't know one could be so cruel and so insensitive to such a thing like harming your self.

She just made a total fool out of me--but why do I feel this way? It was normal for her to bully and hurt the shit out of me, but this was another kind of hurt.

I don't know why I thought that even her, of all people, would potentially feel sympathetic for me.

But no.

I was wrong.

She used my self-harm as a means to make me feel worse about myself. She thought it was disgusting.

Sure, self-harm is an unnatural and disturbing thing to do. But her face and her words said it all-- it was a horrendous act.

Her face expressed complete hatred and disgust for me.