Escaping Life

The Pity

She is shaking her head no, telling the voice no.

People do care, they do.

But the voices disagree.

She's trying so hard not to let them get to her.

She's trying so hard not to scream.

She doesn't think the blade will be there.

Her mom probably took it out of the bathroom.

She decided to look anyway and she gets up, the tears flowing out, and opens the drawer.

There in it lies the blade.

This is the exact reason she wanted to die.

No matter what happens, everything goes back to how it was.

She picks up the blade and reopens her wounds.

Cutting slowly, tracing over old scars and opening them up.

She feels the familiar sting making its course through her arms.

Why does this have to happen to her?

The blade sinks in, and the blood slowing starts to escape, trying to eliminate her mental pain, unsuccessfully.

She puts the blade away and makes sure the blood stops.

She stops the still running shower and quickly wets her hair a bit more to make it look like she just got out.

She comes out of the bathroom and goes downstairs, slowly making her way to the kitchen and slipping the laptop back to its original place.

She goes back up and lays in bed.

She hears a knock on her door and her mom walks in.

'Hey I just got home. What have you been up to?'

'Slept a lot. Um, I took a shower. Basically it. My life is pretty boring.'

she says.

'Are you hungry?' her mom asks.

'No, not really.'

'C'mon, you need to eat. You can come help me make lunch.'

'Do I have to?' she asks.

'Yes, now come down. It'll be fun.'

She slowly trudges downstairs behind her mom and she sits down on a stool on the small island in her kitchen.

Her mom grabs a couple tomatoes out of the fridge.

'You start slicing these up, we are gonna make some sandwiches.' she tells her.

She grabs a knife and starts slicing a tomato while her mom grabs some bacon from the fridge.

'We are making BLT's.' her mom says.

Her mom stops and looks at her arms, eyes wide, tears welling up.

'Let me see your wrists.'

She immediately stops slicing the tomato and looks at her.

'What?'

'You heard me. Let me see them.' she says looking at her concerned.

'No.' she says.

'Did you cut again?'

She quickly covers her hands and tries to make it so her mom doesn't see it, but it's too late.

'Let me see.' she holds her hand out, waiting for her daughter to let her see her wrists.

She hesitantly puts her arm out, revealing the deep cuts.

'Do you want to talk about it?' her mom asks.

'No.'

'Ok.'

She says that she doesn't want to talk about it. Actually, she does, but she's afraid of her reaction. She's afraid that she'll never see her as an equal again. She's afraid of the pity in her eyes when she finds out how screwed up she is.

She's so afraid. So she hides it.

She hides everything away.

Her emotions, her feelings, all of it.

She did it for years, she doesn't really know where it all went wrong.

And she was exposed.

People found out and she felt vulnerable.

She felt even more alone than when she really was alone.

Now she feels even more like a freak.

She feels everyone pitying her, crowding her.

She feels helpless and useless.

She wishes she were dead.

She wishes she were never born.

But wishing doesn't change anything.

She was born, she is alive, and she does have to go back to school.

She's being forced to deal with this, and even though her parents are trying to help so she doesn't have to, it only feels like they are making it worse by always "saving" her, when really, she was just trying to save herself.