Exhausted, I pulled the lever to flush the toilet. I usually felt better after purging all the sadness and anger out, but not today. I felt deflated and even more depressed than I was before.
Someone knocked angrily on the door. "Izzy! My god, how long can you stay in the toilet? I'm sure your make-up is immaculate by now. And if it isn't, too freakin' bad. I have to go soooo bad. Please, hurry up!"
I sighed and stood up. Dizziness overtook me for a moment and I staggered on my feet. The stars surrounding me in combination with the sour taste in my mouth made me very nauseous. I seated down again. The knocking on the door continued.
"I'm almost done, James." Even I could hear how weak and hoarse my voice sounded. The knocking stopped. I silently cursed herself.
"Are you okay?" His worried voice came hesitantly. Of course he sounded worried, but I had fooled him before, I had fooled them all before. I could easily do it again.
"Yeah, sorry James. I'm just not feeling so well right now." I made sure my voice groaned a bit. "Having a bit of a stomach-ache. I wanted to spare you the details, but since you sounded so concerned..." I let my voice trail at the end. "It's that time of the month again. Now could you be a darling and get me a tampon from my room?"
He groaned. "Come on Iz, too much information. And no, I won't be a darling and get one for you. Remember I'm a guy, I don't touch those things." He sounded horrified and I was certain that if I could see his face, it would be wearing a dismayed expression.
I knew I had to provoke him now. That's what I would have done before the accident.
"My, my, is the fearless James afraid of a little cotton stick?" I tried to make it sound teasing.
"Haha, very funny. I will wait for Dad to get out of the toilet downstairs then. And please, don't ever ask me do to that again. Get your own freaking tampons."
"Why didn't you wait there in the first place?" I knew my voice sounded slightly annoyed, yet I didn't feel that emotion at all. Whenever I was in this state of mind, I didn't care about anything; I didn't feel anything. But still, I had to pretend that I was okay, had to pretend I was normal. I didn't want to make them anxious or worried. And most of all, I didn't want their pity.
I heard his footsteps slowly fading away and I sighed again. I hated myself when I was like this. So weak and emotional. Emotional, weak. My mind flashed back to that night, the night that messed everything up. I felt flashes of pain, tormenting my whole body, tormenting my soul. It was too much.
Too much.
I stood up and walked to the bathroom cabinet. It was calling me, glistening in all its mighty sharpness. It promised to make me feel better, make me forget.
I was sweating now and my body trembled. I knew I shouldn't do it. It wasn't healthy, it wasn't right. I shouldn't, I wouldn't, yet my hand reached out and my fingers brushed the cold metal.
I needed this, I wanted this. The car, screams, light, pain. So much pain, crying, fading away. Anger, metal, pain, nothing. Pain, nothing.
Nothing.
I looked down and saw little drops of blood coming out of my skin. I was clean again. All the darkness flowed out of my body and the weight upon my heart was lifted.
Tomorrow I would attend my new school for the first time. With the fresh wounds on my wrist, I knew I could be normal again for a few days. I cleaned the razor blade and whispered silently: "Until next time."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N
Hello, everyone! I hope you guys'll enjoy this story. I'm trying to keep it as anti-cliche as possible, but I can't make any promises. This story can be quite heavy sometimes, but I promise there will also be a lot of lightness and fun. Message me, vote, comment. I'd really appreciate constructive criticism. Anyway, most importantly, recommend this story to other people on this site. I'm kind of new, so any help in spreading the word would be greatly appreciated. In the words of Isobel: Until next time, amigos!
YOU ARE READING
Cutting and Breaking Hearts
Ficção AdolescenteAfter losing her parents in a tragic car accident, Isobel Stewart has to live with her godparents and their son James. Isobel has found muliple ways of dealing with her grief, breaking hearts being one of them. Meeting Avery Matthew, the school's mo...