Alana Brookes is a 13 year old girl who's been in the foster care system for 8 years. She had a single mother who tragically died in a car crash. As Alana has grown up, her mental health had hit rock bottom, leaving the girl covered in scars and pra...
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❝ I would do anything you want me to, I would do anything for you ❞
•┈┈┈┈⊹˚୨♡୧˚⊹┈┈┈┈•
Taylor's pov:
Once I had cleaned Alana's arms, she came a sat beside me in the bed and we put a movie on, however it only took about half an hour for her to drift off, her head resting on my chest. I looked down at her, moving my eyes from the TV screen, and softly kissed the top of her head. I didn't move the girl off of me, not wanting to accidentally wake her as the chances of her going back to sleep were as little as the chances I was going to actually sleep - I was far too anxious, continuing to work myself up.
The last hour replaying over and over in my head, the image of Alana with her arms flowing with blood freezing in my mind and I couldn't get it out;
I could feel my stomach turning with anxiety over what she was doing behind the closed door. The more I waited, the worse it was. I could hear the shuffling round in the bathroom and the small cursing she was doing under her breath.
"Alana, come on, please open the door." I beg, swallowing down my own anxiety as I waited in a panic for her to just open the door. I followed the door frame with my eyes, using the box breathing method in attempt to calm myself down, knowing that I wouldn't be helpful to Alana if I couldn't even deal with my own emotions.
There was more muffled moving around coming from in the room before the lock turned and the door opened, revealing Alana stood with her arms rushing in blood, "Are you happy now?" She asked, sounding agitated as she looked at me.
No, I wasn't happy. As I looked at the girl and back into the bathroom my heart dropped into my stomach, feeling it shattered as the sick feeling rose once again - all covered up by my straight face. I was failing her, she was still doing this even in my house where I was trying to make a safe space, a place where she felt safe and comfortable, a place where she wouldn't want to hurt herself - but I couldn't even do that. I was trying so hard to be there, but every time I thought a slight but of progress was made Alana took three steps backwards in order to keep control and it was honestly exhausting for both of us.
The picture in my mind continued to stare at her, her blood stained baggy t-shirt, her arms which had had once been bandaged now dripping in blood, her bright red eyes from crying - it was all ingrained in my mind and didn't seem to be leaving any time soon.
I held back all the tears which were quickly gathering in my eyes, terrified of Alana waking up and seeing me a mess but the longer the image of her stayed frozen in my mind, the harder it was, and soon enough there was a tear rolling down my cheek which was soon followed by another, and another, and another until I was silently sobbing, fighting my own brain which seemed to be against me while also trying not to wake up the sleeping girl.
