Forgetting Roman

{twenty-three}

{twenty-three}

                With cuts covering my wrists and forearms, I slowly poured the hydrogen peroxide over the long, deep, gashes. Feeling absolutely numb, I worked on getting my cuts cleaned and bandaged up. After an hour of crying, the water had gone cold and my tears had stopped, yet the feeling of emptiness and disgust remained.

                It had been a long time since I had a breakdown as bad as the one I had just had. Usually I was conscious of the things I did, yet this time I was so caught up with trying to ignore the voice in my head that I hadn’t felt as I had ran the blade over my skin.

                Slowly drying the parts of my skin that weren’t slashed, I wrapped my arm in gauze and then set on working on the other. After repeating the steps I had done on my other arm, I wrapped the gauze and taped it tightly.

                I sat on the edge of the tub feeling numb to the cold that had wrapped itself around me. All I felt was emptiness and disgust for myself.

                I broke.

                I gave into one of the most dangerous urges without even realizing it.

                I broke the promises I had made to my brother and mother.

                But what disgusted me the most was the fact that I had slept with Roman’s best friend while he and I dated.

I had done the forbidden; the unforgivable.

But so had he. And he was in the wrong just as much as I was.