The summer of 2009 was when my whole life started spiraling out of my control. I thought I had my whole life figured out, thought I had the sadness under control. Boy was I wrong, the pain hadn't even started yet.
June 2009 we moved to Cleveland Ohio so my stepdad could go to medical school. I was TERRIFIED, I had vowed not to trust ANYBODY. And I did pretty well with that. I didn't talk to many people and I kept to myself, I was surviving rather then living. Although honestly I was barely surviving. I made it half way through 4th grade before he returned.
"Hiah pumpkin remember me? D'ya remember those rules I told you about? Well I'm taking over now."
So it turns out he was just resting, waiting, growing stronger, and now he was ready.
"You see those people over there whispering? They all think your trash..."
It went on like this for days upon days upon days, but that wasn't all, my muscles went into overdrive my eyes and ears were on full alert and my brain was swimming in chemicals. And. It. Felt. Like. Hell. But I couldn't tell anyone about it nobody liked me anyway, they would all just laugh and point they all wanted me dead. Every night was torture. I go to bed and everything goes completely silent, and dark, and my head starts spinning.
"Dooooo itttt... Jooooooin meeeee.... "
I reach over for the knife and without even thinking make the very first slice...
The first cut is always the worst one, you do it to die. Until you realize you aren't strong enough to die yet, and when the blood starts to trickle down your arms you feel free, and you love that feeling so you do it again, and again, and again, until finally you look and you have twenty slices down your arms.
"Well done my dear, that's it, just watch all the pain wash away..."
And you just sit there watching yours arms bleed, until they start to drip on your bedsheets so you start to panic and run to the bathroom.
