Not Important

New in the neighborhood

I held a razorblade in my palm, examining the small object. It was quiet old, something I've been using for months. Although tiny, it was as if the small blade could take away all the pain.
I looked down at my wrist and watched blood trickle down slowly from several cuts. I didn't move to wipe it. The blood was the least of my problems. I looked at my other arm, seeing scars of past memories, past demons that I had tried to cut away. But none of it helped. That never stopped me from doing it though. It was if the small object had been my savior. My escape.
The blade in my hand shined dimly in the florescent light. I looked at the toilet and back at my palm.
This was it. I was about to flush my only escape from the world.
It wasn't my idea, trust me. It had been my mom's. She had found me curled up in bed, red seeping from the wounds I had made all over my body.
It had scarred, for i had cut deep, hoping to end the nightmare I was currently living. My mom did what any reasonable person would have done. She called an ambulance, thinking I would die from the amount of blood that had soaked my mattress.
I survived though, and my mom admitted me into a mental hospital, thinking that they could help with my issues. But it had only made me feel more lost.

Just some disobedience child with 'mental issues'. That's all I am, according to my stepfather. Just someone looking for attention. Well, if I was looking, I got it. My arms and thighs bear the scars of my battles with mental issues. I got looks.

Frightened looks- I would be frightened too. I looked horrid. Like a zombie, my old "friends" would say. Pale skin and dark scars don't go together.
I covered them the best I could, wearing hoodies and long sleeved shirts even in the hottest of weather. That only got me even more looks.
"Mommy, why is she wearing a jacket? It's really hot."
"Jez, you should take your jacket off, you'll die of a heat stroke."
Little did they know a heat stroke was the last thing on my mind. Hell, my mind was so cluttered I didn't know what came first. I-
Knock knock knock
"Jez, honey, are you almost done? School starts soon." I heard my mother call from out in the hall.
"Yeah mom, just freshening up. I'll be out in a minute."
I quickly wiped the blood off of my wrist with wet toilet paper. It stung, but I've done it so many times it hardly fazed me by now.
Murmering a silent goodbye to my friend, I dropped the razor blade in the toilet and hit the flush.
Goodbye, friend.
"Jez, hurry the fuck up, you're gonna miss the bus, and there's no way in hell I'm dropping you off."
I sighed and pulled my sleeve up. My stepdad always had a way of making even the most happy moments feel like hell. There was no way I was going to let him ruin today.
Today is my fresh start. New school, new house, new life.
I put on my best smile and pushed the door open. "I'm going, I'm going."