Unheard Thoughts

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Just Another Painful Day

The satisfaction of the warm tears trickling down the ridge of Lindsey’s nose is no longer there. Staring at the only visible section of laminate flooring- the minuet space that has managed to escape the fate of being smothered by mountains of clothes or school books- as the drop of pain filled liquid meets the tip of her nose and drips onto the already tear sodden pillow.

   For most 15 year old girls, Friday night would be a blessing after a long week of torturous brainpower to produce: endless amounts of coursework; enough revision notes to fill a library and an agonising amount of answers to ridiculous questions. They’d be out with their friends rejoicing about the weekends adventures to come. Though, for Lindsey, this was the last thought that would pop into her head nowadays, she hasn’t been asked to go out by her friends in a long time. She used to wonder why, but when she was finally honest with herself, she understood. Who would want to spend their time with someone who barley talks; never smiles and doesn’t even look like they want to be with them? Friday was just a day where the loneliness and pain would suffocate her. Like every other day of the week.

  “Why isn’t the pain numbing?” she thought. The floor she had been staring at was no longer recognisable, but a blur of colour through the water that glazed her vibrant, blue eyes. She closed them, wishing for relief. The pain was unmanageable, no longerbeing capable of burying it under her tears (she knew this day would come- this medicine had worked for so long… too long) she sat up in her bed, crawled to the bottom of it and opened the   blanket box that was located there. She sighed and flung several blankets over her head, all landing in a heap on the floor– the final 

piece that remained uncovered just minutes before. Taking a deep breath she picked up the bottle of vodka that had been hidden there, unscrewed the lid and took a hefty gulp. The fiery liquid burned her throat as it plummeted into her stomach, where the fire simmered for a couple of seconds, before it was finally extinguished. She took another mouthful… And another… And        another, until the bottle was empty. She put it vodka-empty but shame-filled back in the box and attempted to stand up. Staggering a bit on her way to the door, but managing to get there she locked it. On her way back to her bed she slipped on a t-shirt and hit her head off the corner of her chest of draws. She lay there, blending in with the mess covering the floor. The wetness of the tears- that had finally dried- was now replaced by the sticky, dark blood that flowed out of the deep gash, that had penetrated the top left of her forehead, like a river. Her head tilted to the right with her black, waist long hair sprawled around it, the deep-red substance covering her cheek and trickling into the corner of her partially open mouth. Her eyes bloodshot from crying and the     alcohol- staring into the distance, wide and empty. The lifeless body lay there looking smaller than ever, unknown to anyone, stiff and pale, the only movement from the blood oozing out of thecolossal cut on her petit head.

  Hour by hour passed and Lindsey’s absence has still been unnoticed; for her to not have been seen for the full weekend was not unusual, and no one really cared, especially her family. All she’s ever had was her friends and she lost them months ago. She had had her reasons for pushing them away, REAL reasons, but the only person that knew them was her best friend, Jay Perry. He tried to help to this day, but she didn’t want him to get involved, too     dangerous. So, when he rang she ignored it, when he came round she “wasn’t in” and as he would walk up to her at school she’d suddenly have somewhere to be, or something to do. But he never