Voiceless

Chapter 2

I am sitting on my bed wide-awake when I really should be sleeping. Sleep, a world that is slowly slipping from my vocabulary.  I don’t get much sleep these days; my mind is to wild with thoughts and worries for it to be possible. I am lucky to get 3 hours sleep at times.

But tonight is different, I was going so well. I was borderline 3 weeks without any form of self harm, I look down at my wrists to see the blood oozing out and it gave me the comforting feeling I was craving. No-one understands what its like. At my school, everyone is perfect with their movie ready families that go on picnics and eat dinner together every night. They all get good grades and have the families wealth to support them (and a wardrobe to prove it). Then there was the occasion ‘odd one out’. These were the ones with the sad family history or ones who suffer from their inner emotions. Also know as the ones to stay away from.

I got up and went into the bathroom, trying to prevent the blood from sliding down my arm and staining the carpet. I washed it under the cold water, which made it sting a bit. I started to run the bath and get undressed to hop in. It was my calming method, a ritual more like.

I slide under the warm water and scream to release my anger, the water muting half the noise. I lay looking up at the ceiling. I could stay under here forever, until the end but I come up as I run out of breath and gasp for air. One day, one day I will do it.

* * * * *

Another day passed, ever so slowly. A day became a few, which then became weeks and eventually, 2 months had past. I was worse now than ever and my parents had finally noticed that something was wrong. My mum had seen the scars on my wrist when I was down getting dinner one night. Let’s just say she wasn’t happy about it. The only emotion she expressed was anger and she only felt that because ‘I had embarrassed my family’. If only she knew what went on, the threats and taunts had progressed into physical abuse. A couple weeks ago, waiting for the bus a group of kids came up to me, more powerful than my weak self and knocked me down, kicking me. People just watched around, videoing and laughing edging them on to continue. The longer it went for, the more numb I became. By the time they were done I felt nothing. No aching or pain from the blood pouring from the fresh wounds. I pulled my limp body away from the side of the road once everyone had dispersed off in different directions.  I lay in a ditch behind a bush and stayed there for most of the day. I felt useless and like I had no purpose of being alive. I made a mistake.

Once I had regained enough energy to fight the pain of walking, I headed back home. My brother was at school and my parents were at work. I was alone, just how I needed it to be. I slid up to my room in silence and found a blade in my bathroom drawer. I sat on the cold tiles and let the pain sink in as deep as the blade did. I don’t know what came over me, I just hacked into my skin like I was cutting a piece of steak, but that wasn’t what scared me the most, it was the fact that I enjoyed it. The end was so close, I could feel my life slipping out of my hands. The last thing I remember is the room fading to darkness and me having a smile on my face.