Angels Don't Cry

1

!!!!!!TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!! Scene contains self-harm acts!

Nikki's POV:

I look at my reflection in the mirror, "Ugly!" it screams out. My jet black hair is dull and knotted, blood seeping through the fresh cuts on my stomach, wrists, and thighs, fresh blue and yellow bruises on my arms, my lifeless blue eyes, pale pink chapped lips, and the worst of all my figure. My ribs are poking through my pale paper-like skin, arms too thin, legs too long , and thighs too fat.

I can still hear the taunts in my head. "Fat ass bitch!", they say. It never stops. It never will. It seems the list grows everyday, always finding new words that hurt me more than just one way. Pathetic, worthless, waste of space, freak, loser!  the voices in my head scream. Tears prick my eyes and cascade down my face with no one to wipe them away. I feel my legs give out and fall to the floor sobbing.

I feel the demon gripping on my shoulders, never letting me go. Forever his prisoner. The voices scream louder until all it is just a chaotic roar. "Please.", I say to no one in particular. "Please make it stop.", I whisper choking on a sob. My lungs constrict making it even harder to breathe. Oh God no! Not this again!  I feel my hands and shoulders shake and tremble, my breathing getting more labored. I feel the hands of the demon around my throat choking me until my visions blackens and releases me for a small gasp of air and cuts me off again.

Tears flow down my face freely, I try crawling but I barely make it a foot when the strength in me leaves. Just when I get my breathing a little bit more regulated the wretched demon takes me under again. I press my head to my hands and try to wish it away. If only wishing would work but nothing works. It's just me, myself, and I. Always has been and always will.

I look in the mirror only to see a pathetic teenager who can't handle herself. Its as if someone made mirrors just to mock people, to mock me. It seems as if she's gloating at me, as if she won something I could never win. My heart clenches making me gasp in pain. "What did I do to deserve this!", I scream into the empty air. No one hears me. I wonder if God hears my cry for help, and if He does why doesn't He do anything to save me?

I calm down slightly and look at the small hunting knife that lays less than two feet away from me. My breathing is still ragged from crying, my heart is pounding, my mind is racing, and my wrists are screaming for pain. To release this disaster that is myself. I am at war, and the enemy is me. I never know if I'm winning or losing. Honestly I don't care either way. What's the point in fighting something that you can't see?

I continue looking at the knife like I can never get enough of the lethal beauty of it. The silver blade shining in the pale light of my room. I crawl over and gently pick it up as if it were my lifeline. I take deep breaths not even registering what I'm about to do. I place the blade against my wrist and everything inside me explodes. Slice. I hiss in pain but soon the pain leaves and here comes the blood lightly popping onto my skin. One cut. Two cuts. Three cuts. Four. I feel the breath of the demon on my neck, urging me to continue my release and to damn me to my hell.

The voices are quiet when I am done. I look down in shame at my arm, nothing but a bloody piece of artwork. I feel completely numb, my head is spinning at the sight now just realizing what I did, I start screaming at the top of my lungs.

I scream and scream and scream but no one comes to my rescue. There is blood everywhere, it looks like a crime scene. I keep screaming and crying but soon my vision darkens and faintly I hear a door slam and a voice scream my name.