Prologue
Relief.
That's how I feel as I drag the blade across my skin. It leaves behind marks that soon start to bleed, which will soon start to scab, which will soon turn to scars. I let the blood dribble down my leg and watch as it hits the smooth floor of the shower. I enjoy the moments where I can forget, forget the painful memories of the past day as I watch the red liquid run down my arm. Soon I will need to get tissues and plasters, patch up the mess I've made. Soon I will begin to worry- what if in the morning I can't find the bracelets? What if its to hot to wear a jacket? But not quite yet. For now I will let that feeling live on a little longer.
Relief.
For destruction is creation.
Chapter one-Ping.
"PING!"
A new question pops into my inbox on ask.fm. I click on it, hoping for something nice, a message off my friends.
But I don't have any friends.
"Ur such a fat ugly slut go kill yourself. No one would care"
I don't reply and after five minutes a spree of new questions flood in.
PING
"Ur soooooo fat! PHAHAHAHAHA!"
I'm only six stone.
PING
"Omfg ur ugly."
I know.
PING
"Go kill yourself"
I intend to.
I shut down the computer screen and hope to shut away my problems too.
But I don't.
Instead memory's off the day come back. Lucy stole my lunch and then she kicked my shins until they bleed. Jessica called me a "fat, ugly, worthless slut." Emily said I should kill myself.
And then Mr Maccles saw my scars on wrist. I remember quickly pulling down my sleeves and smiling meekly at him, hoping that he would forget.
It's time for me to forget too.
I go into my bedroom pick my box and lay out the items of destruction- I wander my hand over them and eventually decide on the knife.
Chapter two- Could this be it?
As I step down the stairs in the morning my hips ache from where the knife rubbed back and forth on them. But I try to forget it because I know that my parents will ask questions. Lots of them.
"Mary, breakfasts on the table!"My mother called.
"Mum, I'm not hungry."
"Get here you little Madame and eat what the good lord gave you!"my mother screeches.
"Mum no!" I'm heading out the door when her hand grabs the collar of my shirt, and she drags me to the table. She pulls me into the old oak chair and forces me to stay seated.
"Eat. Now."
So I pick up piece of toast- it's practically dripping in butter, and the trout of swallowing it makes me want to hunch up on the floor. But I manage one bite and it actually isn't too bad. So I pick up another Hal and eat it up aswell.
"Good girl,"my mother praises me like a dog,"see you later!"
As I pick up my bag and head out of the house and onto my mile long walk to school I start to feel my food churning inside my stomach. It was far to rich for my stomach. Eventually I couldn't hold it back any longer and was sick by the side of the bin on the high street.
