Absolution

3: Hecate

Alice

Who knows that if I am in Hell right now, I can feel a thousand needles prickling my skin and I feel my body being immobilized that I couldn't even lift a finger.

But the harsh reality came rushing in that I realized that I am inside my bathroom, with my other arm hanging lifelessly on the bath tub rim and the cold shower scrapes against my skin. I numbly lift my arm and stare at my bleeding wrist that looks like an endless waterfall.

I slowly sat up and groaned when I felt a throbbing pain on the right side of my head. My left hand fly up to my head and felt my hand sticky and wet. Great, now my wrist is bleeding and I think my brains are going to fall out from my skull. 

I went out from the bath tub that is now in crimson color because of the blood, I walked in a staggering way towards the first aid kit. Like always, I am going to hurt myself and I am going to heal the wounds also.

I chuckled ruefully of what's happening to me, I don't wanna live. But I don't wanna die either. I am torn between the two decisions of my life, there's a weird pull within me that's telling me that I should stop of harming myself. But like drugs, I am addicted to it.

While I am bandaging my head and my wrist, a soft knock interrupted of what I was doing.

"Sweetie, are you done?" my mom called from outside of my bathroom. I sighed and fix the first aid kit before turning the knob open.

My mom shot me a worried look "Wait here. I will go get a towel" she left quickly in a blur that seems so unnatural and I think I saw her grinning. Or is it just me hallucinating because of my head wound.

Minutes after, she went back with a black towel on her hands and wrapped me with it.

I sat on my bed while I watch her on my peripheral vision rummaging on my closet for a dry clothes. Then she placed a black shirt and a cream pajama above my bed. I asked her to leave me for a while to change and she said that she and dad will wait for me downstairs.

I stood up weakly and peeled off my wet clothes then grabbed the new clean pair of garbs. But before going down, I took my anti-depressants from the vanity mirror and went inside the bathroom. I get a glass from the side and opened the sink to put a water in it.

I take at least five tablets a day and after that I will feel better. Then after that, I went down to have a dinner with them.
---
"How's your wounds? Do you want to go back to your therapist?" my father said. We are now eating our dinner.

My therapist huh. That guy, but whenever he talked to me I feel like that I am getting worst. I feel like he doesn't really want me to get better, instead we just talked a little and after he gave me lots of medicines to intake. But those meds, doesn't really help me.

Like what I said, I am getting worse. It increases my paranoia and depression. Hell, even my anxiety too. I won't wonder if someday I will be confined inside a psych ward in an asylum.

"Uhh.. No thanks dad." I let out a small smile and eat my dinner. I didn't bother to lift my head up and face my parents. Because whenever I feel like seeing their faces, I always see them with pitch black eyes and bat wings.

I don't know but something is blocking me from remembering something else from the past. I've been like this from past four days, whenever I think about it I am going to have a very painful headache. And I am sure that I don't want to faint again because of overthinking some nonsense stuff.

Feels like there is a curtain that is covering something that I shouldn't know, but the thing is I don't know if it is right or a wrong to remember those things.