Atelophobia || ON HOLD ||

THE FIRST DAY OF MY LIFE

Chapter One - The First Day Of My Life

Rena

I remember that day like the back of my hand. How could I forget it? It's been the only thing that replays every time I get a second with my own thoughts.

It was around three in the afternoon, I'd just gotten home from my GCSE results day. I was rather disappointed, to say the least, about my results. I remember all of my friends were overjoyed with theirs, calling up their parents to tell them about their exemplary achievements of earning A's and A*'s, or B's at the least. I just followed along behind them, staring deeply at the letters in black ink and wondering just where I had gone wrong.

Most of them were completely fine. I had an average of C grades to A grades, the one A* in English making me smile - I was good at the subject, I just never expected to be that good. However, my smile disappeared quickly as my eyes landed over the final grade for Science.

I had earned a D.

I was crestfallen at that. All of the plans I had in my head, or written down in all of my various notebooks, had ceased to exist at that moment. I wasn't going to get anywhere in life, or achieve my dreams. Well, I was, I guess. I could still go to college with all of my friends. They'd just be leaving before me, as I begin the second year of college. I'd need to pass Science before working toward anything else.

I excused myself from my friends - not that they really noticed I was there, they were relishing in their own relief and praise from parents and teachers - and set my sights for home. Typical heartbreak set in during the walk home, as the roaring excitement from passing students grew quieter and quieter.

When I had finally gotten indoors, in the comforts of the entryway of my house, I let the heartbreak set in fully and take over my entire body. Tears began to fall; sobs began to erupt from my shaking body. I was perfectly portraying a girl having been dumped. Yet, I had not been dumped. Or, I had, by the examiner marking my GCSEs. They had dumped me in a very harsh way, crushing any sense of hope or dreams in my body.

Finally, the final emotion set in. I felt anger toward myself - I should have tried harder in that subject. I knew most of the test, thanks to my brother, Ashton, and his vast knowledge of Science - he took the same GCSE, just differently worded to mine. I just didn't know how to apply the knowledge to pass. I hated myself. I was a joke. I'd ruined it all.

That's when I did it. I went straight to my room, leaving the GCSE results in a crumpled mess on the welcome mat. I went to The Forbidden Box - the box that held any instrument that I could get my hands on; every tool capable of doing damage to my body. The box was made forbidden by Ashton, who struggled with the same exact thing I'm going through, and, after unfortunately catching me in the act and wrestling the blade from my hand, he'd set the forbidding in stone.

And, I kept to it. For a record of six months, three weeks, and a day. Until now. I wasn't even thinking straight when I did it - I was too wallowed in self-hatred to formulate proper thought processes. I only realised what I was doing when I'd hit a vein.

I never intended to hit it, of course. I just did. And, boy, did I run. I clutched at the open wound, running as fast as my legs - which, at this point, had almost completely given out from under me - could carry me, toward the nearest hospital, which was about a mile away. I made it, thankfully. Only to pass out at the front entrance, a trail of scattered blood behind me.

I awoke sometime later, hooked up to an IV and with my wounds patched up. I looked around at my surroundings, taking in the bland coloured walls and the typical hospital smell. A nurse was in the room with me, checking on my IV fluids. She noticed my consciousness, and smiled warmly at me.