Saving Mattie (nh)

Chapter 4: Broken Mirror

Split lower lip. Swollen top lip. Black, swollen eye. My inner mouth had a massive gash in it from my own teeth. Bruised jaw and cheekbone, and that was only my face.

Last night, I had managed to scrape myself off the kitchen floor, and limp to my room. From then on was just a blur, that I think mostly consisted of wrecked sobs, and eventually, restless slumber. Now I stood before my mirror, wondering how on earth I was supposed to fix myself for school today.

I began by taking a kleenex and wiping off some of the dried blood from my chin. When I had spit the blood from my mouth onto Mum, some had came back down, splattering my face with my own drops of blood.

I wiped those off quickly, wincing when I needed to scrub them off my bruised skin. As I winced, my split lip only widened, making some fresh blood seep from the wound. I held back my tears, and wiped that off as well.

Now that all the blood was taken care of, I began using cover-up to hide my bruises. I spread the cheap liquid over the darkened skin, and began rubbing it in as gently as possible. No matter how much I applied, though, the darkened skin shone through like a beacon. I let out a shaky sigh, but continued.

It took me almost half a bottle of foundation, but I managed to do it. It didn't look the slightest bit real whatsoever, but I really couldn't care less. I was lucky my first class starts at 10:45 today, or else I'd be really late.

Then I moved onto my lips. The top one was swollen beyond belief, and I had no idea how to fix that, an the bottom one looked like a tiger swiped a claw through it.

I looked like shit. Shit, plain and simple. My mum was right. Look at me. Pitiful. What's the point anyway?

I tried pushing out these negative thoughts, but slowly they consumed me.

I'm a worthless twat. I can't even sustain a few wounds without crying on the floor for an hour. I have next to no friends, am not popular in any way, nobody likes me, I look and feel terrible and I'm responsible for my baby bothers death.

I shook my head, making it pound in protest. I felt dizzy, distorted. My room seemed to be spinning. Tears slipped out of my eyes, running down my cheeks. I couldn't see through my tears. They poured out in buckets, slipping down my cheeks at a rate faster than the speed of light. I gripped onto my bed, clutching it so hard the knuckles turned white.

I turned to the mirror, and grimaced at my own reflection. I even worse then I did a few minutes ago. Adding to my image was the blotchy, red skin that came with sobs, and tears had left clean tracks through the loads of makeup. I was a horrible person, both inside and out.

I picked up the bottle of concealer, and whipped it at my reflection. And for the third time in a matter of days, glass shattered.

The mirror cracked in multiple places, small fragments littering my bedroom floor. The bottle of concealer shattered, and the ivory liquid dripped down the glass mirror left inside the frame. Glass was everywhere, all over my floor. I shrieked and stepped back, running into my bedroom door.

The glass pieces stopped moving, and what seemed like an hour after, the ringing in my ears stopped. My breathing was shaky, my palms flat against my skull. I assessed the damage in my room, my head spinning. It was harder to concentrate, as the loud noised seemed to spark a major headache. It was so extreme, that I felt nauseous.

I clutched my stomach, grimacing, when I felt it rise in my throat. I gagged, before vomiting all over my floor.

After I finished vomiting, I slipped down onto my knees, clutching my stomach. I slid onto the floor, lying down in a semi-prone position. It helped the pounding in my head, and I drifted to sleep.