(UNEDITED. Words may be wrong; blame autocorrect.)
I shut the doors quietly as possible, seeing my dad passed out in his chair from what I can see, and slip off my shoes without making a sound. I start creeping down the hall, and a creak resonates suddenly from my weight to the floor. My throat closes.
"Winter? Winter Star! Where were you last night?!" Dad's voice yells. I wince as if already feeling the pain, the torture. I hear his pounding footsteps behind me, and I tremble. "ANSWER ME!" He yells in my ear. I jump. He grabs my wrist, pulling me to face him. I swallow.
"Uh- I- uh." I stumble on my words pathetically. He reaches up and slaps me. I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from screaming out at the stinging impact.
"What? Whoring yourself around again?" He spits, making tears rise in my eyes. As if! "Your pathetic, Winter. Your an attention seeking whore." He spits. He raises his arm and punches me in the stomach. I fall at the impact, and he kicks me in the ribs. After a good fifteen more kicks to my side he gives up and walks away, grumbling about me being useless. I crawl my way to my room and shut the door behind me, locking it while on the floor still. I weaze while crawling my way into my private bathroom.
Slowly, and painfully, I stand and strip off my clothes, looking at my body in my full-length mirror. I want to throw up just looking at myself.
Bruises cover my ribs, my stomach, arms, and legs.
I exhale once.
Twice.
Trice.
I hate myself.
And that's all it takes for me to grasp the blade awaiting on the sink and dig it into my skin, giving me the raw, exhilarating thrill, making me feel better for a very little amount of time, until I give it a friend, and gave that friend a friend.
I swallow, and get in the shower.
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The Next Morning."What? You think your going to try and shun me out again?" Summer says, following behind me as I walk to school. I wasn't much up for driving today. My mistake. I don't answer, giving her the answer she needs. A hand latches onto my wrist, and I yell out in pain. She pulls me to look at her, lifting my arm and pulling down my sleeve to see the new scars. "Winter.." she says, her voice breaking.
But I pull away. I let out an audible shaky breath and start walking again.
"Why are you doing this to yourself? Let me help you!" She calls out, us walking into school ground, and we instantly get attention. My mouth, slightly open, takes in another shaky breath. A hand latches onto my other wrist, and I clench my jaw to keep from screaming out as she turns me around.
"You want me to feel the pain worse, don't you?" I ask coldly, slightly rubbing my arm. Guilt takes over her features.
"You can't do this anymore! I can't either! I'm not going to pretend that I didn't see you lying on his bed crying in your sleep while curling up in a ball!" She says, her voice breaking. Luckily, we're too far from the people for them to hear, but I notice a lot of them inching forward. "I'm not going to pretend that I never saw your scars, I'm not going to pretend that by seeing new ones you did it again last night and I don't even know why!" She says, her voice coming off whiny. "Winter... I'm here." She whispers softly.
I blink.
"You may be here, but what about me?" I ask, tilting my head, a strand of my hair falling and hovering over my lip.
"So you changed a little bit, doesn't mean anything." Summer says softly.
"It does, you know that," I say in a cooing tone. "Summer, I'm not going to rekindle something just to have you hurt in the end. I need you to be able to let go of me, so I can join the stars like I want to." I say, me being the soft one now. Tears well up in her eyes. I walk past her, in the opposite direction of the school, to the first time in a year and half, willing to miss a day.
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YOU ARE READING
The Feeling Underneath
Short Story"The stars are infinite. And all I've ever wanted was an infinite." ______________ All I knew was pain. Pain was I, and I was pain. We shared each other, mind and body. Me and pain were made for each other like puzzle pieces, and that sickened me. I...