Cuts, bruises, and broken hearts

chapter three

*This Chapter Deals With Cutting In Great Detail*

I cautiously opened the back door, careful not to make a noise.

Relief flooded through me when I heard my mom snore from the living room.

I sprinted up the stairs and locked my bedroom door, eager to release my pain.

I opened the little metal box that contained my self harm kit. I laughed quietly to myself.

You know you're demented when you have a box that serves the purpose of hurting you.

I slid my bracelets off and touched my newest cut. It was scabbed over but you could still tell how deep it was. I inhaled sharply as I placed the blade to my skin.

One, two, three.

I felt my skin split as I drug the razor across my wrists. Finally, the physical pain began to take over the emotional pain.

The blood was gushing out of my wrist. I smiled a sick smile into my mirror.

Fucked up. That's what I am.

Four, five, six..

Fuck. Too deep.

I touched my last cut and winced. This one would take awhile to heal.

I heard the stairs creak. Son of a bitch! I quickly wrapped gauze around my wrists and slipped my bracelets back on. I hid the box on my way to unlock my bedroom door.

I sprinted to my bed before mother opened the door.

"Fuck!" She exclaimed when she saw me.

"Yes mom?" I asked.

"Shut the fuck up!" She yelled as she chucked a book at my face.

I felt it smack against my nose and a loud crack echoed through my head. I sat still and waited for the next blow.

Sure enough, it came moments later. I winced as she pounded my arm. The next blow was to my stomach.

I fell to the floor as the pain wracked my body.

She kicked me multiple times before telling profanities at me and exiting my room.

Just another day in the life of Hannah Brooklyn.