I didn't give you my consent | Station 19

14 - Andy's spare razor blades

TW: Self-harming...

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PLEASE don't read if explicit thoughts and descriptions of self-harming are triggering to you!
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I could feel the eyes on me as I walked down the hall. When I turned right into the hallway to the restrooms I immediately felt liberated. No eyes on me, just me, alone and finally without fear of others worrying about me.

I opened the door to the restroom and looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was tousled from sleeping and somehow I looked like I had just thrown up.

I tried to tie my hair in a plait in front of the mirror, but failed miserably. My hand hurt and I couldn't grip my hair properly. And I couldn't get the knots out without help or a brush either.

I sighed, let go of my hair and hit the washbasin. My hand, which was already sore before, hurt even more now.

"Shit!"

I cursed, looking at my hand, which was throbbing with pain. I shook it off and leaned on the sink with my other hand to look myself in the eyes:

"Let someone just shoot me already!"

I went out into the hallway and thought about how I was going to get past everyone. I wanted to at least comb my hair without someone babysitting me.

I looked around the corner, into the kitchens where everyone was busy cooking.

No one could see me and I quickly scurried past to get to the dormitories. I turned straight into the corridor to my locker, opened it and took my toiletry bag out.

Locking my locker quietly again, I walked over to the shower room and entered, hoping to God that Andy and Maya weren't in there but somewhere else.

To my delight, there was no one there and, relieved, I put my bag in front of me next to Andy's which she had probably forgotten.

I started rummaging through it for the brush and when I finally found it I started combing my hair. The combing pulled at my hair. I seemed to have tossed and turned so much during the night that my hair was an absolute mess.

When I had finally got through all my hair, I put the hairbrush next to the two bags. In all my happiness, I knocked Andy's bag down.

Her bag was still open and now half the contents were lying on the floor. I picked up the toothpaste, shampoo, lip balm, mascara, blush and painkillers and put them back in.

However, I left one item outside for a few seconds longer... A box with spare blades for her razor.

The tugging on my hair and the pain in my hand had already made me think that this pain felt deserved and somehow triggered a feeling of control.

But I couldn't just steal a spare blade from Andy... That would be wrong on so many levels... Wouldn't it? Even if I wasn't using it now, just taking it in case.... No, I can't do that, I would just hurt everyone else if I did that...

I just stood there for about 2 minutes, looking at the blades, wondering if I could take one of them unnoticed.

"Fuck it"

I finally said, opened the box, took out one of the five blades and put it in my pocket.

Immediately my train of thought changed...

How often cutting had helped me to successfully hide my feelings from others. So many times I had been able to help myself without making other people worry or annoying them with miserable speeches...

It let me feel in control and gave me a break from other thoughts that haunted me. If only I could put a few cuts in a place where no one would notice, at least not until they healed. Then even if someone saw them, I could claim they were older.

I put the rest of the blades at the bottom of Andy's bag, took my own and went out to my locker. I put my bag away and headed back to the bathroom, making sure no one noticed me, of course.

Once in the bathroom, I went into a cubicle, sat down on the closed toilet seat and took out the blade.

With a few simple bends, I broke the plastic holder off the metal. I wrapped the plastic scraps in paper and threw them away, nobody would look at what was in a toilet waste garbage can anyway.

I took a few deep breaths and exhaled, laughing at myself and the situation I had got myself into. I shook my head laughing at the sight of the blade in my hand.

I took off my cardigan and pulled up the sleeve of my T-shirt. This spot was perfect, no one would see it there, my t-shirt and sweaters would double cover it and they would probably only check my stomach if they suspected self-harm.

I held the blade to my upper left arm, hesitated briefly, but finally pulled it towards me. I pinched my lips together and saw a few drops of blood coming out of the cut.

I hadn't had that stinging, liberating feeling for a long time. I finally had something in my own hand again with which I could control my feelings and what I was feeling.

No one else could control this, especially this guy from the night before couldn't take this away from me or control it.

I drew the blade across my arm again, a little further up next to the first cut. Again, small drops of blood formed on the wound, which joined with those of the other wound and finally ran down to my forearm.

It even felt as if with every drop of blood a little bit of this man was leaving my body.

Satisfied by the feeling I cut again...

Then again another one, two, three, four...

The door to the bathroom opened and I was torn from my thoughts.

Andy's voice finally pulled me completely out of my thoughts:

"Mila, are you okay? Vic and Carina said you've been in the bathroom for a long time now, I just wanted to see if everything was okay or if you needed anything."

Don't panic now, just don't panic... I tore off a few sheets of toilet paper and pressed them onto the fresh cuts on my upper arm:

"Everything's ok Andy, I was just lost in thought haha, I'm coming now!"

I said positively and joking.

I stood up, threw the bloody toilet paper in the toilet and flushed. Luckily for me, I heard Andy open the door again to go out:

"See you in a bit Mila!"

I put a new wipe on the almost stopped bleeding, quickly wrapped up the blade, threw it in my pocket, just in case I needed it again and walked out of the cabin to the sink.

I washed the blood from my forearm up to my upper arm, pressed the wipe one last time on the minimal remaining bleeding and pulled it off to throw it away.

Wrapped in a new piece of clean toilet paper and thrown in the trash, I pulled down my t-shirt sleeve and put my cardigan back on.

Suddenly regret kicked in. I had stolen a blade from Andy, hurt myself with it and then lied to her just like I lied to everyone else about my feelings before.

I pressed my right hand on my left upper arm, felt the sting of the fresh cuts and was weirdly satisfied again, I had just earned this pain.

With one last checking look over the sink and toilet cubicle for traces, I left the toilet to join the others.