Fire Full Of Love

Part 19 - New dress

(Anastasia's pov)

I'm trying to find some dress to wear for the party Bailee is throwing. I look through my wardrobe.

No.
Maybe.
No.
Hmmm, no.
No.
No.
Maybe.

Scrolling through my hands land on this red dress. My hands clutch the dress without my body knowing. It brings back so many memories. I was in such a horrible part of my life then.

The dress wouldn't of fit me now as it's an age 9. I don't know why i still have it but i remember my mum buying it for me after my first therapy session. My eyes were puffy that whole day, i cried even more because they hurt from the tears.

(TW)

I thought being in a boxed therapy room at the ripe age of 9 was normal for a little girl. When you realised little girls your age can actually be happy created an anger in me i could never speak about. That's when i first learned about jealousy, that raging, burning pit in the bottom of your stomach.

I hate how i couldn't look at myself in the mirror at 12 years old as my arms were a battlefield. Who would fall in love with a little girl who was at war with herself? Some may say it's immature but i felt 10 years older than 12.

Then you grow up and realise that was becoming normal. It was common to get drunk until unconscious, slice and cut your entire body to shreds, snort lines, burn yourself, rip out your hair all because you can't handle stress, family, relationships and life.

Imagine being so heartbroken with your own life you decide to take it away even when you don't know what's next. People choose an eternity of darkness rather than trying to survive in this cruel world. It's gut wrenching when you have to make that decision. It's even more harder waking up to the light.

I don't understand how a blade made me feel more alive.

But when you carve, smoke, starve, do pills, lines, drink, fuck until its torture it's like a high you've never felt before and that's it. You can never not do that, it's addictive and it sticks to you in your head whenever your in a small inconvenience.

When people find out they look at you differently and then you go crazy because in the end your just a lonely monster.

I always blame myself as people pointed their fingers at me as i was THAT selfish girl but i didn't turn myself into this monster.

I always said even at a young age if i died it wouldn't be of suicide it would be a murder case because i am not putting the blame on myself when i was drowning because of their words.

I was not selfish, immature, self centred i was just looked down on.

I was just a 9 year old damaged girl who was treated like a barbie doll. Everyone expects a clear skin, long legs, clean hair, perfect weight, not too short but not too tall, good body language, not confident but not weak, don't stutter, no stretch marks, no scars, wears different clothes each day, always has a smile, nice laugh, never says no, little girl. You expect to be perfect before becoming a teenager and people are shocked as to why 10 year old little girls commit suicide.

A dress. One dress brings it all back. The red colour always reminded of those nights i lay on the bathroom floor with a crimson colour surrounding me.

It hurts to think about.

I come out the state i was in. I don't know how long i had been sitting there on my wardrobe floor but the ring of my phone vibrates the counter top.

10 missed calls from Bailee.

Shit.

I text her back how i am just getting ready and my phone was on charge.

I go back to my wardrobe following my hand through all the short dresses.