Thoughts Left Behind

Scars (Realistic Fiction/Talk Of Self Harm)

*Realistic Fiction/Talk Of Self Harm*

Alright, so right off the bat, I sincerely apologize if I offend you with this chapter (though I'm not sure how I could) I'm just not sure how to address these types of topics so I try my best. Secondly: I shouldn't have to apologize for this chapter considering I've already mentioned what it is about. Anywho, I hope you enjoy the chapter! I'd love some feedback.

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The two girls sat in silence, both lost in thought about recent events.

Mia stroked her wrist subconsciously, her gaze travelling from the girl in the tub down to the tattoo her fingers ran over.

"You know," she started, her voice sounding loud in the quiet room, "I made a decision a long time ago that the only thing I would have mar my body would be this." She didn't talk for a few minutes, her eyes glued to her wrist as she felt rather than saw her companions curious gaze on her.

"I came so close," her voice rang out once more, slightly strangled near the end as she tried to repress some of her memories. She took a breath and cleared her throat, when she spoke again her voice was steady.

"So close each night, and each night, and each night I would write this right where that blade rested as a reminder to myself." Her voice trailed off and still her companion said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

"Do you know what this means?" Finally she turned to the girl in the tub, not expecting an answer but asking anyways.

"An author will use a semicolon when they can end a sentence, but choose not to," her eyes traveled back to the ink marring her skin, people often pointed it out but would soon fall silent when she explained its meaning, not knowing how to respond.

"Each night I made the decision to continue when I very well could have ended my life, so I marked my skin in ink as I had been so tempted to do in blood."

She looked back to her companion, her heart breaking as she saw the tears glistening in her eyes.

Mia reached into her denim jacket for the sharpie she always carried around and fiddled with it, her eyes leaving the bathtub once more.

"Eventually I decided to permanently scar myself and got it tattooed to my wrist, a solemn reminder that I will forever choose to continue. People can try to convince the author to keep going while others seem to urge them to stop, but in the end, the author will always choose."

She turned where she sat so as to face her friend in the tub, tears fell freely down her cheeks now and she turned to look Mia in the eyes.

Mia gently reached down for the girl's hand, casually popping the cap off of her sharpie and traced the soft felt onto her thankfully clear flesh.

"I'm so proud of you," Mia whispered as she continued her movements over her friend's veins, "keep choosing, there's always a choice." With that she kissed her forehead and left the washroom, the sharpie still sitting next to the crying girl on the bathtub's ledge.