Blessing In Disguise

Original | Chapter Eleven

(Sierra's POV)

School. The thought alone makes me want to cut. I don't want to go today, but I don't really have a choice.

I woke up early this morning feeling like shit from crying so much yesterday. After tossing around for a while, I now force myself up from my bed.

Stumbling to the bathroom, I turn on the shower and let the steam fill the room. I strip out of my pajamas and test the water on the back of my hand. I refuse to let my demons persuade me as I lather and rinse my shampoo and conditioner. My shower is quick, leaving the voices very little time to take a place in my mind. I wrap a long, wide black towel around my body and cautiously step out into my bedroom.

After making sure that nobody is in my room, I hurry inside my huge closet. I change into yellow jeans and a Batman sweater with black combat boots.

I then creep downstairs, hearing only the soft noise of the television in the living room. I go into the kitchen. Cringing when the refrigerator door creaks, I grab a bottle of water, close the door, and proceed to make my way back to my room.

I don't want to deal with these people today. I don't want to deal with my life. I wish I was dead. Maybe I can pretend that I'm sick or something so that I can avoid going to school. Maybe if I cut myself deeper than last time...

"Sierra?"

Damn it.

"What, Demi?" I harshly question, entering the living room to find her with her elbow and hand propping up her head.

"What are you doing?" 

I loudly shake the bottle.

"Getting water," I explain. "I don't feel good."

She narrows her eyes. 

"You seemed fine yesterday." 

"Well, that was yesterday," I retort, resisting an eye roll. 

"Whatever," she grumbles, tossing back the thin blanket that covered her body and sitting up. "You do know that you're not going to be able to get out of going to school, right?" 

"Why do you just assume that's what I'm trying to do?" 

She scoffs. 

"Don't you think I tried the exact same thing?" she rhetorically questions. "You're scared," she states. 

Now I can't help but to roll my eyes. I don't want her to know she's right; she doesn't deserve that satisfaction. 

"Think about that for one moment, drama queen. Why the hell would I be scared?" I question with an arched eyebrow. 

"You're scared of the bullies. You try to let what they say roll of your shoulder, but no matter how hard you try, you can't help but feel as if what they say is true. You feel as if your demons are your best friends and also your greatest enemies. You're sick, Sierra, and you know it. Not physically but mentally. You know you need help yet you don't dare to ask for it because you're scared. Every day you contemplate whether or not you should just do the world a favor by taking your own life, but in the end, you know that if you did that you'd only be letting the bullies win. You wish that they'd just hit you instead of degrading you with words day after day." 

I stare at her. She just put a rough summary of my feelings into words.

I want to sob. I want to confess everything to her. I want her to help me, but I also want to help her. We're both broken, so why can't we fix each other?

"You're wrong, Demi," I whisper, trying to convince both her and myself. "That may be how you feel, but I would never stoop so low."

"Really?" she snorts.