Anathema

Confusion & Self Harm

After what happened with Cameron, things starting getting bad again. During the time we were "together" I was genuinely happy and a little less nervous.

After what we did, what he did, things changed between us. I didn't feel very safe with him anymore. I didn't feel very safe at all anymore. I wanted him around but at the same time I was scared, I didn't want him touching me anymore. We kissed but it wasn't like before.

Then there were rumors.
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"Did you here she gave Cameron a blowjob?"

"She's a slut, she let him fuck her like a dog."

"Cameron said she wasn't even that good."

These are a mere few of the many things said about me. Everyone thought Cameron and I had sex. They thought I was a slut, they didn't even know me. None of the other freshman seemed to know about the rumor, only upperclassmen, mostly girls.

After I heard all of these awful things being said about me, that was the last straw. I still have the very first razor blade I used to cut myself.

I was going numb and I wanted to feel something, anything, I didn't care if it was pain. I was scared at first, honestly. What if someone saw them? It was early December, I'd be wearing long sleeves and sweaters.

The internal conflict started up in my head again.
"What if someone sees them?"
"Everyone already hates me."
"You're going to ruin yourself."
"I'm already ruined."
"But it'll stop, this can't last forever."
"But this is what I'm feeling right now."
"What if mom finds out?"
"What's she going to do? Slap me? Lecture me on how I could've been a better daughter?"

The voices stop as I press down and the blood runs. After that I couldn't stop myself, I kept cutting. I wanted to feel and I was finally feeling something.

The next day at school I went up to Cameron. I looked him dead in the eye and asked, "Why would you start those rumors about me?" He was around some of his friends. "You know it's the truth though." He smirked. He actually fucking smirked.

I was in shock, he was actually smug about what was happening. I looked at the ground, then looked up at him, "Yeah, you're right. The only lie you told is how big your dick is because I can vouch, it's not that big at all sweet pea."
I shocked myself, who new I could honestly get mad?

I turned to storm out of the building when he pulled me back to him. He hugged me, he was just hugging me. Then he looked down and kissed me, right in front of his friends and a few passing classmates.

We kissed for a moment before I pulled away and scurried out of the building. I traveled to my spot alone. I needed time to think, really think. At that moment I was love struck again. Just so in love with this boy. Then I remembered, he spread those rumors, he's the one who didn't stop right away.

Too much was happening in my head and I just really wanted a cigarette. I decided to ditch the restk of my classes that day, three class periods wasted on me walking aimlessly around campus.

That night I stayed up and thought of all the things I should've said to Cameron. I was so angry, why didn't I yell at him and scream about how much of an asshole he was?

I couldn't deny it, I loved him and wanted to be with him even though I was scared of him. He made me feel whole again, like I would be okay. I knew it was wrong but it felt right to be with him.
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"So is Cameron actually going out with her?"

No. The answer is no. We never actually dated. All that we went through and we never actually dated.

The last straw. December 18, 2013 was the last straw for me. The end of it, I wasn't going to put up with Cameron for one more second because I was thinking about committing suicide.

Cameron made me want to die.
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We were in "our spot" and we started kissing like usual. Just sweet and soft and gentle. Then things escalated and things stopped being sweet and soft and gentle.

Cameron tried to put his hand down my pants and I pushed his hand away and we continued to kiss. Maybe just thirty seconds later he tried again but with more force.

I pulled away from the kiss, "What the fuck, Cam?" He looked shocked then he smiled like the devil, "I just want to show you a good time." I didn't want this at all, he was scaring me again. "I don't want to do this anymore. We should stop." I was hoping he'd just storm off but instead he stayed.

"I don't know why you won't let me. The whole school already thinks you're a slut." I just stared at him, I could feel the lump in my throat. "What?" He looked at me as if I was stupid. Rolling his eyes he stated, "That's what this whole thing has been. I just want to fuck you."

I tried to pretend I heard him wrong, "What?" He stood up, "Oh my god Bliss, did you honestly think I had a thing for you?" He scoffed and walked away.

He just wanted to get laid. More than a month wasted on a boy who wanted nothing but sex. I let my tears fall and the lump softened. I couldn't believe it.

The rest of that day was nothing but a blur. Just me walking to my classes and walking around alone.

Things got worse for me after that. I went back to smoking all the time but now I had a serious addiction. I was addicted to cutting, addicted to hurting myself. Addicted to hurting myself but taking away the pain at the same time.

I didn't have anyone now that Cameron was out of my life and things were getting much worse at school and home.
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At school the upperclassmen girls called me a whore and a slut. To them I was dirty and disgusting, but they didn't know what happened. I bet if they did they would be following me around instead of Cameron.

But even if they knew my story, then the upperclassmen guys would just call me a prude. What's worse? Being called a slut or being called a prude?

I decided I would just keep my mouth closed. It wasn't worth the attention I would end up drawing upon myself. I didn't want to talk to all those people about it, I just wanted to forget it ever happened.

At home it was getting harder and harder to sleep, I had to take sleeping pills. The dark circles under my eyes kept getting worse and I was so fat. I used to be a size 7 and now, thanks to binge eating, I'm a lovely size 9.

My mom was bothering me about grades but I didn't see her very often. When I told her I didn't have my report card she called the school. I have to stop ditching and go to class more, before I get a truancy letter.

Now I was grounded because of my bad grades, my mom to away my iPod and my radio, that meant no music. At this time in my life music was all I had. Music spoke to me like no one else could. My mom left a red handprint across my face and a bruised arm.

I didn't say anything about that. I cried a lot but that wasn't helping to take away the pain so I cut. The addiction to cutting was getting so bad that if anything went wrong in my life I always resorted to cutting, it didn't matter how big or small the problem was. The only difference was sometimes the cuts got deeper but sometimes they were just the surface.

Little did I know I was about to try something that I would never forget. Who new I even had the courage to try?