Scars

Chapter 1

My mom used to say life is about the experience; and that it's important to live it, before you can question it. That's the problem with my mind: my level of curiosity is outrageous.

For me, cutting wasn't anything anyone was supposed to know about. It was supposed to be private, a prospect that had already been eliminated to the fact of knowledge. That I knew this was a battle fought single-handedly between my conscience and I.

And from what I've learned, wrists are the hardest to cover for; to hide. However, I can't bright myself to cut myself anywhere else. I feel like my wrist is where I want to keep it, I don't want change.

The only person who's ever known about my cutting was my 'friend' Emma. She came from the outskirts of town, her mother a drug addict an growing up in an environment where it was very individual for themselves. Therefore, because she used to cut, she knows the exact behavior that comes around.

Upon seeing her, after I had attempted to avoid her all summer, she had demanded I show her my wrists. There I was- in an awkward position, which I never wanted to be in the first place.

Ever since I was a child, I had always been afraid of veins. The sight of blood, it caused me to feel nausea and dizziness. But when I had finally had enough... When I had lost a battle with myself, I grabbed a razor in the midst of the night and sliced my wrist. Not on the bottom of my wrist, covered with veins. The first place I actually cut was on the top of my wrist.

Emma grabbed my arm and ripped my bracelets off to see the cuts I had inflicted upon myself. She hadn't reacted like I expected, perhaps I had been anticipating her to tell. To scream, yell, or even humiliate me for something in return. But the first thing she said to me upon finding out, the first thing that crossed her mind... "You cut no the wrong side, Skye!" And then she laughed at me. Called me out in stupidity, for not cutting upon the underside of my wrist?

Tell me if I'm wrong- but something seemed off about that, instead of yelling at me... Or telling me how disappointed she was in me, she simply suggested I do it differently. She let me be, and told me I had harmed myself incorrectly. 

What she didn't know, was that the only reason I wasn't slicing on the underside of my wrist was because I was afraid of cutting too deeply to a point beyond repair; my Mom is a doctor, and I visit the hospital often. So god knows what her reaction would be if I accidentally cut a vein one day, and had to go to the hospital because I passed out instead of dying. 

As much as I wanted to die, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Not yet. The way I think of life, differently than my Mom, is that everything is already planned out. Simply, we're all just here. I figured, that if I'm going to die already since the rest of the world is as well, then what's the loss in staying here?

Why would I end it early, if my death is already planned out for me in the end? 

Instead, I promise myself that I'll just wait until then. Perhaps it sounds suicidal, and it does entirely. But the point is, that mere thought is what keeps me here. My mind gives me two options- knowing that i will die eventually, it doesn't have to be self-caused. I can just wait for it to happen when the world has finally had enough of me.

There.

I think I've gotten my point across.

My name is Skye and I'm your typical depressed teenage girl. I live in a small town that most likely isn't located on your map, in the middle of nowhere. I live with my Mom, and step-douche... Er, step-dad, and little sister Maggie.

My biological dad left me when I was very young, three maybe. My Mom never speaks of him. Maggie's dad was just another one night stand type of guy, but Walt, our step-dad and my Mom both lie to Maggie and tell her that Walt is her biological father.

I've known Walt for three years; my Mom met him when he got into a car accident in the hospital. He was her patient. Maggie met him when she was only two, but can't remember it. As far as she knows, the five year old has known Walt all her life. 

And since that faithful day, Walt and my Mom have been married 'happily ever after.'

Did they even think twice about their fifteen year old 'daughter?'

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This is my first chapter so sorry if it's a bit rubbish, hopefully it gets better as time goes on! Thank you for reading and give feedback if you want :)