The Girl in the Asylum

Chapter 11: Its not what she wanted to hear

I couldn't quite apprehend what I'd just heard. My head was spinning and I was feeling nauseous; kind of sea sick...

Ugh Bianca. I wish I knew how she was feeling. One day she was fine the next she was floating in the local lake. Everyone said she jumped off the bridge above but my Bianca would never do that. She was happy with me, our relationship was strong. That night I was going to propos-
For gods sake, stop your rambling again...

My first instinct was to run but I couldn't. There was something about that place, the room, her. I just couldn't go; I didn't want to. I couldn't seem to get my words out. My voice was shaking like the rest of my body. Well, what can you say when you've been told you've been sharing a room with a teenage murderer? Not bloody much to be quite honest.
"Mm, well I don't really know what to say." I said, preparing myself to run if I needed to. What u said wasn't a lie but it also wasn't really helping the situation because, well, I guess she already knew I was speechless. She looked at her covered up wrist and looked back up at me.
"Don't tell anyone," she said with a slight whisper to her voice, "about that and, well, also about my arms." The second part she said ever so quietly.
"I was planning on it." I chuckled under my breath, trying to lighten the mood, to only get a blank stare stare in return. She was acting as if cutting was a crime, she'd obviously never seen my arms.
I rolled back my ironically crimson sleeves and showed her the underside of my arms. She gasped subtly, not wanting to seem stubborn and then rubbed her lips together to hide the smile peeking out of the corners of her plump, peachy, dry lips. I smiled, very cheesily, back to her and rubbed her shoulder in comfort. She winced and pulled her shoulder back whilst simultaneously grabbed it quickly. She put pressure on her upper arm and removed it after a minute or two. She gasped a lot louder this time and put her hand near my face. It was red. Blood was running off her hand and splashing onto mine as I tried to catch it from hitting he floor. It was warm and puddled in my hand neatly.
She turned up her short sleeve and showed me her shoulder. It was pouring with blood- her cuts were open. They were in a place I'd never seen them before. These were not done by her. They were deep and on an area which was too awkward for her short, fragile arms to reach. I observed them before she slowly covered it back up and just let it heal under her gown sleeve.
She turned around and held up the back of her loose fitting, stained robe. Her figure was sleek and curved in perfectly above her hips. It was just a shame that her bones stuck out. Every bone that isn't supposed to show was showing. She was skin and bone; I thought her figure was to die for. I saw something that put me off wanting her slim body. I saw deep cuts- slashes, across her back.
"A-are they still there?" She asked, "the marks, are they there?" She asked again, thinking I didn't know what she was on about.
"Yeah, they're a bit more than marks though." I said, but I knew that's not what she wanted to hear.
"WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!!!" She screamed out. "He wants to punish me for what I've done. He hurts me." She trembled.