Wolfed-Up Rabbit

Chapter 26: Bloody Sheets

Chapter 26: Bloody Sheets

Kim's POV

I do it because I enjoy it. And it makes me feel at ease.

But there is not a day that I don't go to bed wishing to wake up the next day as a non-self-harmer or a non-smoker.

But it's an addiction so I know I can't. Because when that toxic shit begins, I'm internally screaming for more.

There is an invisible prison that captures me in the blood and nicotine trap.

And the crazy thing about addiction is that I know I shouldn't do it, but I have no idea why I'm doing it in the first place.

I'm not suicidal, I just welcome death. If I die then I die. I don't want to die anytime soon, but if it happens then who am I to argue?

***

I glance at Becca and wonder what she's thinking. We're naked; sitting at the edge of the bed, blood on the sheets and my packet of cigarettes on the floor along with the rest of the mess.

"Why?" she asks.

I graze my fingernail on the side of my neck, internally hoping that it'll slice through my skin, detach my head from my body, and kill me.

But it doesn't. Instead, I have to answer her.

"I didn't think it through," I say.

"Of course you didn't! You cut yourself so you obviously didn't think!"

"I hadn't cut for like a week, Becca. I had the urge and I tried to fight it but it kept bothering me all day and I- I didn't want you to see."

"Yeah, well, I found out because you bled all over the damn place!"

"Okay! You're mad, I get it! But I don't want your mother to find out that I cut, okay? So, please, keep your voice down!"

She glared at me. "I am not done ranting about this, Kim!"

And she indeed wasn't done. She said how I not only cut myself in her mother's house, but I'd been smoking while I did so even after I'd promised I'd try not to. And inside the house, too. (To be fair I smoke a lot and going a whole day without a single cigarette had been kicking my ass). That I literally did not try and that it seemed that I didn't give a fuck about making a good impression.

It felt like a literal whiplash.

And suddenly, 'whiplash' carved into my brain and wouldn't leave. Suddenly, I wanted to rip open my skin and see the blood trickle down onto the floor in a beautiful plethora of crimson. Wow... I was literally crazy. What the fuck...

"Kim!"

I looked up at her, startled.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

I looked at my feet and saw that I'd been picking at them causing the wounds to open more and excrete blood again. I jerked my hand back immediately and ran my other hand through my hair in frustration.

Becca shook her head in clear disappointment and began putting clothes on. I just sat on the bed crosslegged wondering what the fuck was wrong with me. She walked out of the room and I looked down at my feet.

God, I was a fucken idiot! Why had I thought that this would work out; cutting the bottom of my feet so she wouldn't see? What a dumbass.

I glanced at the sheets and I realized I still had to deal with the blood on them.

Washing machine? Was there one here or did I have to sneak away with her mother's sheets and go to a fucken laundry?

"Kim?" The door began to open and I panicked when it hit me that that wasn't Becca's voice.

I jumped out of bed and the pain from the wounds and sudden contact made my knees bend.

Becca's mother screamed and I threw myself on the floor and pulled the bloody sheets down with me so she wouldn't see.

"I saw absolutely nothing, Kim! Dear God, I am so sorry! I'll leave you to— Is that a cigarette packet?"

I reached over like a lunatic and hide them under the sheets. "No."

"I thought I made it perfectly clear to Rebecca that I wouldn't tolerate certain things", she turned to the doorway and was about to call out her name.

Oh, fuck!

"No! No! Don't call her, please!" I immediately jumped up from the floor and almost broke my neck as the sheets tangled over my feet.

She covered her eyes with her hand and motioned for me to stop. "Kim, please please put some clothes on!"

I cursed and hastily threw some clothes on. I hid the cigarettes in my pants for the hell of it.

The splendid woman with medium length red hair removed her hand from her eyes and stared me up and down. "I'm going to delete the image from my brain and get straight to my point: You deliberately just lied to me!"

I stared directly into her eyes and tried my best at bullshitting the whole conversation. "What are you talking about?"

She gave me the same pointed look Becca gives me all the time. "The cigarettes."

"What cigarettes?"

"On the floor."

I looked at the floor. "I don't see 'em."

"Kim..."

I raised my arms up. "All I'm saying is if I can't see them they're not here", I bend down and bundle up the sheets in my arms making sure to hide the blood stains from sight, "So if you'll excuse me I have to go to the laundry"

I try and pass by here, but she stays put. She extends out her hand and I sigh. I pull out the cigarette packet and hand it to her.

"Thank you", She heads to the doorway, "I have a laundry room." She walks out of the room and as I'm about to walk out, I realize my pocket knife is right in plain sight next to the bed.

I go to stand where Becca's mother was and see that she would've clearly been able to see it. At least it was closed. I grab my knife and blood smears on my hand. I rub both the knife and my hand on the sheets and shove the knife in my pocket. Then I walk out of the room closing the door behind me.

Fuck... Today had just not been my day. I cut the bottom of my feet and bleed all over the sheets as Becca and I were about to have sex, she somehow finds out I smoked, she goes ballistic and actually walks away. Her mother sees me naked and confiscates my cigarettes and she probably saw my fucked up legs and the knife and the sheets. And now, I'm currently in the laundry room with my pocket knife in my pocket wishing I had a smoke.

At least we'd been here long enough for me to make a good impression, however, we'd clearly been here too long because approximately two days had led to me massively fucking up.

She really thought I wasn't trying... Like yeah, I kept falling back into it, but at least I didn't do it all the time and at least I had some clean streaks. That had to count for something, right? Why was this so hard? I don't remember it being this hard to stop.

I had to make things better with Becca and her mother. The only problem was that when the problems begin growing all around you, you kind of just want to disappear and the closest thing to that right now was sleep. That sounds good enough for me.

So when I finished with the laundry, I went to sleep on freshly washed sheets hoping that when I woke up everything would miraculously be okay.