Where My Demons Hide

Time For a Checkup

The terrifying thing about growing up in an abusive household is that everything is a trigger.  Once triggered, you tend to resort back to old habits.  At this point in time, I am living in one giant trigger.  I am at my parents house, in my old room, the threat of my brother is looming over me and lucky for me when I reached under my mattress I found my old blade.

I walked into the connected bathroom and shut and locked the door.  I didn't think my mother would actually come upstairs, but just in case I wanted an extra heads up.  After turning the cold water on, I sat on the edge of the tub and pulled my dress up my thighs.  There was no question in my mind if I was going to do this.  I knew as soon as my feet hit the stairs that this is where I would end up.  Old habits and all that.  

Pressing the blade to the inside of my thigh, I took a deep breath and applied more pressure.  The instant euphoric feeling was enough to make me gasp.  I watched as the blood beaded until it started to run down my leg.  The drops on the floor were beautiful.  I loved having white tile solely for this reason.  My pain was so clear to see.  With a slow blink and another breath, I made another slice in my skin.  Before I realized what was happening, I had a small pool of blood on the floor and seven new slices in my leg.

The peaceful feeling that usually comes wasn't there this time.  Slowly, my breathing became labored and my eyes started to water.  After all this time its finally stopped working.  I shook my head at my thoughts, that can't be it, maybe it just wasn't enough.  Maybe I just need a few more.

This out of control feeling I was experiencing while holding my blade was completely foreign to me.  Control was the reason I did this.  I'm not an idiot nor am I naive.  There was one reason for starting this and one reason I continued.  Control and comfort.  Two things I lacked my entire life.

With an uneasy feeling I moved my legs further apart and proceeded to add three more bloody lines to the already existing ones.  I was careful to open old scars on some of the downward strokes, but some of them were new.  It should feel better than this.  What the fuck is happening to me? Sweat was starting to form on my forehead and upper lip.  I wiped at my face with the back of my hand and sighed again.

My untouched leg started bouncing up and down without my permission and my lungs were basically collapsed at this point.  Getting air in and out was becoming such a chore I didn't think I was going to make it much longer.  I stuck my wrist under the cold water to try and shock my system into calming down.  The water danced off my pale wrist and for the first time I noticed how prominent my veins were.  Such a beautiful color, I was completely captivated by them.  

Subconsciously, I raised my right hand with my blade and created brand new lines down my once unblemished arm.  With the water added to it, the blood became pink and runny.  The sink soon took on a pink hue.  So beautiful.  I added four more lines to the first one and with each push of the blade, my panic lessened.  Thank fuck.  This is what I was looking for.  

Panic attacks always drain me.  The rapid heartbeat, the lack of oxygen and adrenaline - perfect recipe for a knockout.  I turned the water off and watched in fascination as the blood continued to trace its way into the sink.  It seemed to be pumping out faster than the marks on my leg but this was new territory for me.  I wasn't sure what to expect.

As I turned around to grab the towel hanging up, my foot caught on the rug in the middle of the floor.  Before I had time to catch myself, my face bounced off the tiled wall and down I went.  Spots were dancing rapidly across my vision as I lay like a rag doll in my bathroom.  Certainly I must have landed in my beautiful pool of pain. Mother is going to be pissed when she sees all the blood on her beautiful creation. Guess I have to spring for dry cleaning.

  So dizzy.  Eyes so heavy.  So. Fucking. Tired.

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The steady beeping noise alerted me to the fact I was in the hospital without even opening my eyes.  What pissed me the fuck off was the cuffs holding my wrists the bed.  I yanked my arms up and down but all that did was make me winded and piss me off further.

"Now, now dear," a warm hand patted mine several times, "just relax, ok? I'm here to help you." 

The lights were dimmer than I expected when I cracked my eyes open, how thoughtful. I followed the hand up to the owner, an older woman with graying hair and penguin scrubs on.  Cute.

"When can I leave?" I made no effort to keep the derision out of my voice.

"Well, that depends on you, dear.  Why don't we bring the doctor in and get things sorted out.  Then we can talk about length of stay," she smiled, genuinely from what I could tell, and headed towards the door of my room.  "There is a police man here to see you, I will let him know you're up while we wait for the doctor."

The door was closing behind her before I could protest.  Fucking great.

"Meadow," at least he had the decency to knock before entering, "is it ok if I come in?" 

"Nope."

"Just making sure," Gage stepped fully into my room and softly closed the door behind him.

"What do you want, officer?" 

"To check on you, I was first on scene when the call came over the radio," he pointed to the chair in the corner, "mind if I sit?"

"Please, make yourself at home.  You even have the right accessories," I waved my hands again making the cuffs rattle.

"Right, so I just wanted to make sure that you were doing ok.  I've stopped by a couple times over the last day and a half between the station and home to see if you were awake. The nurse said this was the first time you were alert."

"What fucking day is it?" 

"Monday morning.  The call came in Saturday evening, you were found unconscious at your parents home.  You were brought in by ambulance," Gage looked down at my wrists and leg, "you had pretty severe blood loss."

"Yeah, I cut myself shaving."  

"Meadow," he started to speak but I cut him off.

"No, Gage, don't.  You don't know me from a fucking hole in the wall.  You got to the scene first, that should have cured your hero complex.  Mission accomplished, you saved me.  Please, just go the fuck away now." 

"I can't," he chuckled and ran his hands through his light brown hair, "believe me, I've tried. I have never been rejected so bluntly in all my life.  But there is something about you that keeps drawing me in."

"You got a hard on for head cases? Or is it all the blood and passing out that turns you on?"

"Trust me, I know.  You should be the last girl on the planet that I'm attracted to, but" he cut himself off as he realized what he said.

"Well fuck you very much."

"Meadow, look, maybe you're right and I do have this hero complex for you.  God knows I can't come up with a rational explanation for it.  Whatever it is, I am invested now.  Especially after the other night.  Seeing you like that was hell."

"I don't need any investors. Never have, never will.  I don't know if you've noticed, but I am the poster child for head cases.  My list of illnesses is probably longer than your dick and the fact that you are having a serious conversation with me while I'm strapped to a bed and pissing in a tube says a lot about who you are as a person," I laughed without humor, "Believe me, two fuck ups do not equal happily ever after."

Thank god for small favors, before he could respond the doctor walked in effectively ending our conversation.