Freedom [Complete, 18+]

CHAPTER 20: MOMENTS IN TIME

The rest of the day moved at a snail's pace. His face kept on popping up in mind, so full of emotion as I slammed the door. His expression showed so clearly what I couldn't bear to see, not from anyone: pity. Yes, what I went through was indescribable but being pitied by people who had no idea what it was like was not okay. I had received tonnes of pity from complete strangers through to people who had known me all childhood and yet what I couldn't understand was why his pity bothered me most of all.

I slowly picked away at the food left for some form of distraction though all it did was remind me of him. In a now not uncommon burst of rage I threw the tray away managing to break the last remaining mirror in the process. Annoyed at myself I dragged myself over to the shattered antique desperate to clear as much up as possible before someone came and helped having been drawn by the noise. Collecting them onto one large piece my finger caught an edge and blood started to flow, splashing down drop by drop. I don't know how long I stared, watching as the blood spread over the shattered images of my face.

A thrill went through me reminding me of that euphoric feeling that I had felt so many times before. I reached down to grasp a sharp shard turning it over to see the blooded version of my gaunt face. Cheeks hollow with lack of appetite, pale and pasty skin stretched thinly over bone. Greasy hair had sneaked out of the messy bun it had been in and lay across my bloodshot eyes. My hands trembled as the need to escape just one more time, as I so often did, flowed through me. I grasped the shard harder in my hand and placed it across my already well lined wrist before applying pressure not enough to seriously harm but enough for that sweet release that swiftly followed. I sighed deeply, leaning back against the wall as it took over: seemingly lifting the overbearing dirty, guilty feelings that were ever constant and suffocating. Floating high, I barely registered the pain anymore, though the good feeling was waning much quicker every time. I groaned as a sudden loud noise wrecked my bliss. The noise emanated from the panic button just outside the door fixed for this exact purpose after the first time was followed by another and another too close calls.

"Go away! I just want to be left alone. I'm fine it is not that deep, see" I said before showing the room full of people the wound before applying pressure knowing that was the quickest way for them to leave. I wasn't quick enough though because the private doctor soon arrived with his suture kit already prepared.

"It is okay guys I can take it from here." The doctor's swift dismissal led to the room rapidly emptying, a factor I greatly appreciated as the loud mumblings were grating on my last nerve, the bliss long forgotten. "Now, Catherine, what do we have here, hmm?" He asked putting on gloves as he removed my hand from my wrist before applying gauze and pressure. "We were doing so well what happened? I haven't seen you in a while. I had so hoped that you no longer needed me."

Unable to get a word in edgeways, not that I wanted to reply anyway, I just sat watching as he stitched me back together as he had done on many other occasions. I didn't really mind his constant babble he kept up as he went along, finding out long ago that I wouldn't contribute much as he talked about his husband and new dog. Therapists came and went but the incredibly gay doctor kneeling beside me refused to give up saying that I would come around one day and he was hoping it was before he turned grey. Reluctantly I had come to not mind his presence, his babble a small comfort which made him someone that I felt more comfortable around than most.

"I know what the answer will be but I'll ask it anyway: are you sure I can't convince you to take something..."

"I'm not taking antidepressants, doc." I hated the idea of being medically numb, I needed the emotion to keep me sane.

"I know, I know..." He said whilst packing away his things before getting to his feet; only speaking again when he reached the door, "just think about it please, it might help."