Short story: Scar

Scar

It is dark and I am alone. As I believe this, someone come to visit me in the form of text. It is my angel. She texts me on cue, but this time is different. Her messages are laced with a bitter taste that rolls off my tongue. As I'm reading it, I can tell something is wrong. My angel isn't soaring through the sky; she's falling. Messages like cutting is like taking all of the anger , anxiety , and hatred that you,ve felt and control it against yourself. A pause ensues, then she sends Have you ever cut yourself before? All of this sends lightning all through my fingertips straight up to my spine. I can feel my whole body shake. I am struck by anxiety. My poor angel has been taken hostage by her demons and they're trying to take me too. Anger and anxiety rise in me. The anger explodes in one text I burn myself. I cant handle cuts. I send this to stop the destruction that has ascended upon both of us. What have I done?, goes through my mind constantly. The person that replies isn't my sweet angel anymore; she's my manic monster. What have you done with her? , I think as I see her empty texts. She pushes You burn?? Do it. She pushes Put you anger into it!! Do it! She pushes more You've been bullied , right?? Then do it. She pushes more Why dont you?? After you do it, show me, k?? ENOUGH!!! I'll do it!! I rush off my bed and grab my straight iron. I sit back on the edge of my bed, bite down on a cotton ball, and fulfil my angel's desire. I put the iron against the upper part of my left thigh and burn myself until there's a noticeable mark left. I go to bed , leaving the iron right beside my bed.