11:11

wish twenty-five

       The wall felt cold against the nightshirt clinging to her sweating body as she fell against the bathroom door, locking it behind her as she slid down. She felt her fingertips press against her thin lips, outlining them as they crawled around her tears, choking back the devil’s words from falling out of their skies. Her head shook violently as she repeated the words, “so stupid, so worthless, please, please God, kill me someday.”

       As soon as she whispered those words halfway through the night, she felt her veins stop pumping blood, her heart getting caught in between her words as her palms vibrated with shivers. Her organs contracted as she gasped, feeling her head spin wildly as colors blurred her vision—blending together as a family.

       Instinct took over her like a weak prey as she fumbled with her soul, reaching for the scissors in the cabinet as she fell back, hearing a loud thump ring out the room. She shook her head like a person lost in the sea, out of control, deprived of strength and humanity.

       “Don’t, please don’t do it,” she whispered to the devils on her shoulder blades. Where did her angel go? “I’m sorry,” was the last thing she said to her wrist as she snapped the scissors on her skin, feeling the silver blade devour it hungrily as if it was starved of skin, blood, hopelessness...

       She lay in her bed, feeling the blood drip down her wrist and out of the bandages she had failed miserably to tie with one hand. No more tears trickled down her red cheeks. She had no more tears. It calmed her down. She was a sick monster, loose from her cage, from her jail, from the handcuffs around her skinny wrists, lost of ingredients and shine.

       “I wish it worked...”