Imaginary

  I slammed the bathroom door shut and locked the door. I turned on all of the faucets so that they would wash away the muffled yelling of my parents. It didn't work, though. It never does. They only seem to get louder as my little sister, Lily's sobs were thrown into the mix. I hated to leave her stranded out there in the middle of it all but I couldn't bare letting her see me like this. Doing what I was about to do. I opened the the bathroom closet and reached behind the stack of guest towels. There, I kept my razor blade in a small sandwich bag. 

   I know what you're going to say. 'Cutting is wrong', 'There are better ways to express yourself' and what not. But before you go judging me, know that it's hard for me to live this life. To endure this lie. My world is so dark; so I decided to make it a little more colorful- one river of crimson regret at a time. I bring the blade to my flesh with trembling fingers. The cold steel rectangle pricks my skin and a single dot of blood appears on my skin. I slowly drag the blade across my arm in a perfect vertical line. Tears roll down my eyes as the numbing pain strikes me. My phone buzzes in my pocket, jerking my hand. Cursing, I reach for a towel to stop the blood. My phone buzzes again.

  Mariette: Whats going on?

 Marriette: I can hear u guys from my house...

  Damn Marriette and her stupid curiosity. Couldn't she just mind her own business and accept that the Slaters are just another dysfunctional family like the rest of the neighborhood? No. Marriete is just ignorant to the ways of the world in that way. There's no changing that. I stand and turn toward the window. From there, I can see Marriete's house. It's a large Victorian style house that is almost identical to my house and the rest of the houses on the street. Besides the fact that her house is yellow and mine is violet, the most obvious difference between our houses- our lives- is that you can't hear yelling erupting from her house 24/7. Actually, it's quite the opposite with the Castanzas. It's like the family was ripped straight of a magazine. Mrs. Castanza is always baking so you can always smell the heavenly smell of pastries wafting from the house. The family is really really... nice. Like unnaturally nice. Behind their kind exterior just lays a big whopping field of peace, love, and nice. There is always laughter in their house. Just walking by the property makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. In our neighborhood, there are two sides of our street; the Good and the Evil. In other words, the Slaters and the Castanzas.

 Luna: Nothin out of the usual.

 Marriette: Are u OK?

Luna: Of course. Y wouldn't I b?

Marriette: I can c u from my windo Luna. Ur holding a bloody towel to ur arm.

 I look down and quickly pull down my sleeves. Though she is across the street and it's dark, I can still picture Marriette's face scrunched up into a look of disapproval. My phone buzzes again.

 Marriette: Y do u keep doin this to urself Luna?

 Here it comes. Damn it, here comes one of Marriette's lectures. I don't know why I decide to play dumb because either way I know it's coming. Marriette somehow manages to know and see all. And she's going to let me know that what I'm doing is wrong no matter how much I protest.

Luna: What r u talkin about?

Marriette: Dont play dumb. U kno what Im talkin about. U keep on cuttin urself and it hurts me, Luna. It hurts all of us when U do this to urself.

 I look up and find Marriette shaking her head in disappointment as she draws the curtains together. A sudden wave of guilt and anger washes over me. Doesn't she think it hurts me, too? To not only hurt  on the inside, but know that you are so weak that you must make the pain show on the outside too in order for it all to make sense. I think about telling her this but I know it will only offend her. Marriette cares about me. Sometimes I fear she cares for me a little bit too much. But then again, if she feels pain because of my self harm it's her fault. She chose to love me in the way that she does. She latched herself onto me. Doesn't she know that there's a reason why everyone fears me? That there's a reason why I am this way? I am the horrifying emo/ Gothic girl (depends on who you ask) who is the freak of nature. I make a crowd part not admiringly or respectfully but out of fear that my misery may be contagious. I make football players tremble in their tennis shoes. What her think that I wasn't what I appeared to be? Or that she was immune to the fear everyone else felt? My misery is contagious. Every one knows that. Every one but Marriette, at least. I could say that it's all her fault. But that would be a lie. Because I care about Marriette, too. I hate myself for it but I care for her too. She and Lily are the only things that bound me to this wretched wasteland.

Luna: Im srry. :(

 I wait breathlessly for her reply. Long after my parents' bedroom door has slammed shut. Long after the front door softly closes. Long after Lily stops crying. But there is no response. And I don't blame her either. Because I know, deep down, that I am not sorry.  And I probably never will be.