Assigned Partners

Chapter 3

Trigger warning: Self harm

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When I pulled in to the driveway, I noticed that my dad's car was there too. It was weird, he was usually at work at this time of day. I leave for school before he leaves for work though, so maybe he just didn't have to go in. I got out of the car and headed up to the door. Twisting the knob, I let myself inside, kicking my shoes off.

"Lauren?" I heard my dad's voice call out.

"Hi dad.." I replied.

"What are you doing home?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I took the day off to get some things done around the house. Your turn." he said, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Bad day. I don't want to talk about it." I told him, my voice shaking a little bit.

My dad approached me, and pulled me in for a hug. I tensed slightly at the touch, and waited a moment before pulling away.

"I just want to go to my room," I whispered.

He nodded, and I bolted out of the front hallway and went up the stairs. Running into my room, I closed and locked the door behind me, dropping my backpack to the ground. Being in the room alone meant that I could cry. I could cry without anyone seeing me. So I did. I sunk to the ground next to my bag and sobbed. The hot tears spilled down my face. I reached over and unzipped my backpack, and pulled out the sketchbook. Just seeing it made me feel worse. My chest felt like it had gotten tighter. Holding it in my hands, I closed my eyes, and tried to breathe easier, but id didn't happen. I had both Austin and Michael's face in my head, the events of today and a few months ago replaying in my head.

I whipped the book across the room frustratedly, before pushing myself up. I didn't even care where it landed. Hopefully it was somewhere that I wouldn't have to see it again today. I slipped into the bathroom that connected to mine. Our house is rather large, and most of the bedrooms have at least a bathroom with a toilet and a sink attached. Mine luckily has everything a bathroom should have. I closed the door and fumbled through one of the drawers under the left side of the sink's counter. Finding a small box, I took it out and sat on the ground, leaning against the wall.

Opening the box, I eyed what was inside. Three sharp blades rested at the bottom. I reached in and took one of them out, turning it over a few times carefully in my right palm. Tears still fell from my eyes. Not as quickly as before, but still enough that my eyes were starting to hurt. I rested the blade on my knee, and tugged up my left sleeve. Cuts from a few days ago, as well as some old scars littered the skin. I didn't care. I knew there was room for more. I needed more.

Just do it. Do it Lauren. Who gives a fuck? Nobody knows, nobody will find out. It makes you feel better, it always does. Just do it.

The voice in my head was right. Nobody knows, nobody gives a fuck.I know I certainly don't. Ever new cut brings me that sense of relief that I need.

I brought the blade to my skin, dragging it across my wrist slowly. Within seconds, blood began to seep out. I went over the same spot for a second time, watching at the red liquid trickled down my arm. I hissed softly from the pain, but it wasn't anything new. I was used to it. The initial first cut always stung the most, but after that? It would start to feel good.

Within a few minutes, most of my wrist and forearm had fresh cuts. I dropped the blade to the ground, hearing the light clink as it hit the floor. I ran my fingers through my hair, knocking my beanie off in the process. I looked at the damage I had done, and I wiped at my eyes. My body wasn't nearly as tense as it was when I had arrived home.