Depression Doesn't Mean Self Harm.

Cuts, Bruises and Blood

As I heard my alarm go off, I quickly stumbled out of bed. I entered the bathroom and ran my fingers through my long brown hair.

You see I don't get immense bed hair like other teenage girls who worry about their appearance in the morning, like really.

I took of my night gown carefully as to not hurt myself in the process. I was standing naked in front of my body mirror, I glanced at my right arm and then at my left wrist, cuts were full on my arm and wrist making me wince at the sight of it. My parents are aware that I did hurt myself a while ago but their concern for me was less than their concern for a dog.

It was sad that deep down my parents still loved me and the only reason they hurt me was to teach me so when I grow up I could be an image of them. A beautiful rich girl that has achieved all her goals brought up by two amazing parents. Yeah as if that's going to happen more like okay looking poor girl that has more than half her goals to achieve brought up by two asshole parents.

I placed my palm on my right arm and started travelling up and down feeling all the marks on my arm, all the deep ones all the small ones and all the long ones. A tear dropped out of my eye and I continued feeling my arm for a couple more seconds before I looked at myself in the mirror.
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"Where are you going" my father had asked observing the purple long silky dress I was wearing.

"Um... I'm going to the party with you guys" I gulped nervously waiting for his response.

My brother and mother were already in the car , we were all supposed to head out to my cousins birthday party, my father's nephew.

"You weren't given an invitation, so I don't think so" he looked and me glanced at his watch "Go to your room and don't leave till I come back"

Water started filling my eyes and I started making my way to my room. I was absolutely devastated that I wasn't allowed to go, I spent almost 6 hours in my room crying.

I didn't leave my room out of fear of my father catching me in the hallway or staircase. I really wanted to go and show of my dress.

When my father came back with my brother and mother I was called downstairs to explain myself.

My mom looked at me in disapproval " We never said you were allowed to attend Sophia, how dear you disobey us" she yanked my ear and twisted it. I started to yelp in pain and crying.

"III I'm sssorry" my mother flicked her wrist telling me to get out of her sight. My eight year old brother looked at me with sympathy.

That night I went to my room and started cutting myself. I was eleven then.
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I looked at the cuts I had given myself at that night. An 11 year old shouldn't be cutting themselves, there might be a thousand girls or boys hurting themselves. Around the world and nobody is there to stop them, there might be a million boys and girls dieing from parents abusing them and no one is there to stop them.

I entered the bath and had a shower and put on my school uniform.

"Good morning ma" I greeted my mother as I entered the kitchen.

"Mmm" she grunted back in response. I took two slices of toast that was left for me on a plate and put butter on it. I started making my way out of the house and towards my school ready to face the humiliation of being slapped by my dad that the whole school would laugh about, hopefully Shopa Gary or Shawn hadn't told anyone or possibly they believed my lie.