Adama (Unedited)

Chapter 4 (unedited)

Warnings| Strong Language, self harm, and physical abuse
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Depression is a disease that consumes my life. People who don't have mental health issues often confuse depression with sadness. However,  depression is long-term.  I would describe it as your mind is a war zone and you are struggling to survive. Many suffer in silence because when they reach out for help, people rather judge and gossip.

My first suicide attempt would have been fatal if Pierson didn't find me. To replace the suicidal urges I became a cutter, using any sharp object to pierce my skin. My arms are covered with self-inflicted scars, which range in different sizes; most of them are horizontal. The self-harming got so extreme, that Mom locked away all these knives. Although I haven't cut myself in two years,  the urges never stopped; it turned into an addiction. Honestly, if these sharp objects weren't still locked up, I probably would have relapsed a long time ago.

I tried to hide my depression from Pierson because I didn't want to burden him. Pierson already had a lot on his plate, dealing with a physically abusive father and his parents were in the midst of a divorce. So, the last thing Pierson needed was to deal with my bullshit.

Pierson knew nothing about it until one day I had a mental breakdown after witnessing my parents get into another fight.  I don't remember what led up to the argument but I recall how angry my mom and dad were. It was the first time things ever got physical. "You insecure bitch" He snapped.
"I SAW THE MESSAGES, HANK. YOU CAN'T DENY IT" Mom shouted at the top of her lungs.

I came out of my bedroom, awoken by all the noise; as I rubbed my eyes,  my feet shuffled through the floor.  I yawn "What is going on?".

   Suddenly, my mom was thrown across the kitchen; her body hit the upper cabinets and fell to the floor. I screamed, "DAD STOP!"

  Dad casually walked into the living room, and he saw me at the bottom of the steps in distress.     Although I was much shorter than Dad, I tried to intervene. I came up from behind and used my fists to hit Dad repeatedly in the back. "What is wrong with you?!" I yelled.

    Dad then pushed me and I fell backward. My body shattered the glass coffee table, which caused the whole thing to collapse. I  laid in the middle of the disaster and tried to stand but I felt a sharp pain. I look down at my leg and see shards of glass stuck in my knee. "Astery..." Mom hollered, and she rushed over to where I was.

Mom was about to touch my knee, but every time she was about to there was hesitation. I was in excruciating pain; one way or another,  the broken glass needed to come out. "Okay honey..okay, this might hurt," Mom said after she got a pair of tweezers, I shook my head. 

     I screamed in agony however, eventually, Mom had removed the last piece of glass. I swallowed hard, the sight of my knee was horrendous. Blood was on the floor titles, on my mom's hand. Almost everywhere I looked I saw it. I stayed seated on the floor while my knee gushed out blood to no end. But after Mom applied pressure on the wound for several minutes, the bleeding eventually stopped.

  I remember Mom got up about to give Dad a piece of her mind, but he was nowhere to be found. Mom glanced out the front door and noticed his car was gone. At the time we didn't even realize Dad had left. "Honey...it's okay, I-" Mom tried to comfort me, but this was the last straw. I didn't even wait for her to finish before I ran to my bedroom and locked the door.

   My heart is racing as I hyperventilate, in search of a sharp object. I reached inside my pencil case, grabbed a rectangular pencil sharpened then broke into it to try and get the blade out. I held the blade to my skin, while  Mom tried to get the door open but failed.