For Family Or Love?

Uninterested & Interested

Kiara's POV:

Sonya's dead. She really is.

My elder sister.. my favorite sister.

I drop down to the floor of my room. I couldn't stay in the hospital. The same place my sister died at.. I just couldn't. So I took a driver and went home. But it doesn't really feel like home. It hasn't in many years. But now that I've lost two siblings living here, I don't think I can manage.

All I want to do is die. Just jump out of the window and die. Take pills, slice my already cut up wrist, hang myself. Doesn't matter at this point. Whatever gets the job done. As long as I close my eyes & never open them again I'll be fine.

But I know I can't do that. Not after my little brother passed and now Sonya. I can't do it to my family. No matter how much I want to, I don't want to cause them that kind of pain again. Especially so soon after Sonya.

I don't feel like doing anything but dying. But because I can't do that, I'll go cut myself. It's the only way I ever feel something. I know it's bad and that it isn't okay. But who's it hurting other than me? It's not like I'll die from it.

I got up and wiped my tears from my face. I headed to my bathroom, uninterested in the world around me. I've done a lot of things in this bathroom. Morning and night routines, crying, cutting, isolating myself. My room, my closet, my bathroom, hell- even my art studio- have become my safe space over the years. Somewhere I can go to deal with my frustrations.

I grab a razor and take the blade out. I already have my same bloody towel I always use to clean my arms with ready.

I slowly bring the blade up to my left arm, breathing softly. I press it into my soft flesh and breathe a sigh  of relief as blood comes out. I hadn't done it in a few days. It feels good. Great actually.

The warm blood running down my arm, the way the blade cuts through my skin, the pain, everything about this feels amazing. I've never felt more alive than I do when I cut. I don't care how many times I have to do this to just feel anything. Weather it's pain, relief, exhaustion, it really doesn't matter. As long as it's there.

I bring the blade to my skin and cut. Again, and again, and again until I switch to my right arm. I keep cutting until I start to feel woozy.

I hurriedly wiped the blood off my arm and grabbed some things to make sure my wounds don't get infected.

Once I was done I cleaned everything up and hid the bloody towel. No one knew about my self-harm other than myself and my doctor. And she wouldn't tell a soul.

There's such a big difference on how I'm seen and what I really feel and who I am.

At school; I'm very talkative and friendly to people. I follow directions, (when necessary) do my work to get perfect grades, I'm on the soccer, track and volleyball teams. I'm also on the drama club and student council. I keep up a façade to keep my father happy. No one knows what happens inside of the Morganstar mansion. They'd never even think to check.

That's what school is all about. Your image. A wrong friendship goes bad? You're family will be eliminated. A heartbreak? War. Anything can ruin you. But a rumor? One that cannot be debunked? That image will stick to you for the rest of your life. It'll be on your file, your family's file, anywhere people can put it they will.

But I'm not at school.. I'm in my home. In the comfort of my art studio. Where I'm not perfect. I'm really just a complete mess and an empty shell of a person. I don't know when I became this way. Or even why really. Most of my siblings still have their humanity.

It's my defense mechanism. Not letting anyone know the real me. Not even my best friends.

Drawing takes me away from reality. I learned from very early on in life, the best place to be is in your head. Whatever works best, do it. Because the world around you, is uninteresting.