Fallen

43. A Hope-ful Christmas

TRIGGER WARNING: Extreme detail and mention of self harming. Mentions of abuse and heavy swearing at children.

A/N: if you're going through anything like this, trust me, ik how it feels, I really do. if you want, you can always talk to me on the comments here or on my profile wall/chat thing. ily and you're not alone <3

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Ivy's Christmasses always had three events she could always count on happening: crying, screaming, and cutting. By cutting, it quite unfortunately meant Ivy cutting herself. Many, many people can't even begin to comprehend the thought of how someone could willingly cut or harm themselves, but Ivy wrote it all down in a journal. Every thought she was feeling the first few times she self harmed. Ivy woke up early today, as she usually did on Christmas. It wasn't out of excitement, because she had nothing to be excited for, but it was because of nerves, and the stress Christmas would bring. Since Ivy was up, she decided to look around her room. This was when she found her journal from two or three years ago. Ivy stared at it because she knew exactly what was written in it, and it was chilling. Regardless, she opened it and flipped to a random page.

Ivy Roxanne Hope. Christmas day. age 12

Today is Christmas. I love christmas, but I feel like every year it gets worse. I opened my presents and I got really cool stuff! but later dad was mad beacause his rugby team lost a game. I didnt do my dishes from breakfast and he got really angry. he gets really angry when there's dishes..even if they're his. he started yelling at me and calling me names. it really hurts especially cause mum doesnt do anything about it. when im a mum i dont think i'll call my kids names..except the good names. im just writing this because i cant tell anyone. maybe older me will read this..maybe i'll be happier when im older and dad will be nicer. I saw this quote and I like it. it goes something like 'everyone can be a father, but not everyone can be a dad.' I feel like my dad is a father..he doesn't do very loving dad things if that makes sense.

its after dinner now and dad yelled at me again. im in the bathroom. for some reason i feel like i want to hurt myself. I think dad is right. I'm a bad kid and i deserve to be hurt. I have a dental floss pick but the end is pointy. i want to scrape myself with it but why? one of my classmates cuts herself, she told me. She said it feels good and it's addicting. i want to try it out. i take it to my hip and rub it back and forth until i see the smallest sight of red blood. it hurt, but i felt satisfied for some odd reason. i stop though. i might keep doing this but i dont think i should. i hope older me knows what to do. Happy Christmas I guess.

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Ivy stared at the page in slight horror. It was so sad to see herself struggling at such a young age, hoping it would get better in the future. She felt like she let herself down because things didn't get better, and she still self harmed in the same way. Usually, when people think of self harming they think of razors, knives, safety pins. In reality it's not always like that. Even scratching, pinching, or hitting yourself could be a sign of self harm. Ivy self harmed with unusual items, such as a floss pick. It was odd, yes, but it did the job of giving her that satisfactory dose of pain. Whenever she didn't have something sharp, Ivy took the scratching route. Sometimes, she'd be so stressed that she was just curl into a ball and scratch at her legs to try to stop crying; it rarely worked. Ivy wished she wasn't like this, she wished she wasn't a freak who slit her hips. That was another thing that was different about Ivy's harming; where she did it. Most people did it on their wrists or upper arms, even their thighs, but Ivy cut her hips. Her hips were somewhere no would would look; Why would they? Almost anywhere else could be visible, but Ivy's hips were always covered when she was clothed. Ivy kept reading through the journal, each page getting worse and worse. Then Ivy heard the sound of a door opening. It wasn't hers, but it was her father's. Ivy hid the journal and got up without a second thought. This time another door opened, and it was hers.

"Good, you're up." Ben groaned, flipping his messy hair.

"I'm up." Ivy confirmed.

"You have gifts downstairs."

"Okay." Ivy shrugged, moving passed Ben and going down the steps. Ivy was surprised to see a generous amount of presents, though she knew most were from distant family. Ivy opened her gifts and didn't get anything too exciting, but that was to be expected. Ivy noticed that her parents didn't come down, so she just went back upstairs.

She checked her phone and saw a text from Harper, but she didn't have the motivation to respond. Instead, Ivy grabbed the journal and found an empty page. She started to write; just anything that came to mind. Perhaps it was sad that Ivy could only open up through a piece of paper, but that paper would never bully her. That piece of paper would never judge her or be cruel to her; it just listened and absorbed her thoughts and emotions.

Ivy Roxanne Hope. Christmas day. Age 15.

I don't know when's the next time I'll read this, but I just found it today after a few years. It hurts me to say that my mental health hasn't gotten better. Dad still hates me and mum just stands there like she's frozen. I don't know why. Maybe he hits her and I just don't know. I don't know a lot about my mum..I have a girlfriend now, that's good. Her name is Harper and quite fucking honestly she is the most amazing human ever, which is why I have no clue why she's dating me. I'm sure 12 year old me would've never guessed I'd have a girlfriend, but here I am at fifteen, a big fat lesbian. I should've always known. Boys were always weird and gross to me. I'm scared to open up to Harper. I know she wants me to, but I'm not ready. I need more time. I don't want to lose her though. She's the only thing worth living for. I feel really strongly around her in a good way. I don't want to get ahead of myself but I love liking her. New years is coming up and I'm done giving any fucks. I'll talk back to my dad even if I get thrown on the streets. Maybe. I'm too much of a coward. I just wish he knew how much it affected me.. And if he knew, would he still be like this?

Fuck I sound cheesy. Merry Christmas to future me reading this. May your mental health get better, and may you get rid of all the dicks in your life.

Ivy sighed as she signed the last words with her ink pen, her writing almost unreadable at this point. As unlikely as it was, Ivy truly hoped that an older version of herself would read this with a smile, knowing her life was better. Ivy grabbed her sketchbook and scribbled a quick poinsettia, writing little phrases or words in French around it that she remembered from Harper. She always liked drawing when she was upset. Ivy finished the sketch quickly and admired it, though she hid it when her dad walked in.

"Your mum and I are going to a party. We'll be back later." Ben informed his daughter, then left with a slam of the door. Ivy sighed and checked Harper's instagram. She had just posted, showing that she was at her family's house. Ivy groaned because now she couldn't even see Harper. At least Ivy had the house to herself; though she wasn't in the mood to do anything. Ivy laid in her bed and watched tiktoks, the only thing she could think of to pass the time. After an hour, Ivy got bored. She could do nothing but cry, no matter how much she hated it.

Why was she like this? What did Ivy do to deserve this life?

"Why am I like this.." Ivy weeped into her pillow, grabbing a pointy floss pick.