I got up from bed, feeling all groggy. I couldn't help but feel a wave of exhaustion already. It's just been 10 hours since I hit the hay, and still I'm tired.
What a start to a beautiful day.
And then, a wave of unbearable anxiety gripped my chest. I suddenly felt hollow, yet pained. My heart started pounding and I felt faint. What was going on? What had I done?
The pain kept going on and on, and my head felt like it was about to split into two. My legs were growing weaker, and then I realized it, by a characteristic sting.
I was so used to it, I barely acknowledged it in the morning.
The stinging sensation. The cries. The salty tears dripping off my face. The shouts. The anger hidden within me.
The memories came rushing back to me, and hit me square.
I was now petrified. I realized what happened then. I had somehow dug a blade into my arm and it bled. I had relapsed again.
Again. After just a month.
Why? Why did it have to end like this?
A fat tear rolled off my eye. What? I never cried!
I told myself I would never cry. I had breached it already, and I was doing it again. I hated it. People would give me looks as if I was crazy. Others would ask me what's wrong as if I was some poor little guy on the road.
Very few times, I get to rest my head in my friend's lap and sob my heart out, and she's the one who doesn't judge me. I didn't exactly figure out how it even made me feel better. It made me feel worse the next day, but it somehow...worked for one day. My anger was kept at bay. And when I couldn't grab anything, I would shove my pen into the paper till there were rips and holes all over the last few pages. Yes, it was bad for the notebook, but way better for the skin, right?
Where did we go again.
I was about to keep the blade away from my hand's read when my ten year old brother swung the door open. In his hand was a little bag. My tears by then had dried, but at the sight of him, they were coming back fast.
Wonderful. A boy had to witness a crying older sister.
I walked closer to him.
"What do you want?" I knelt down, ignoring the sharp pain on my knees.
"I saw you back there." And I stared at him in horror as I realized what he meant, while he just smiled stupidly.
"And I'm here to help you fight your demons. You try to kill them with a blade, but your target is too fast, and you end up hurting so bad, you cry." He still looked at me the same way.
"You're brave, trying to kill them. I run from mine." he said looking at his bag. What was it for? Now it was my turn to smile at him.
"And so, I brought you this, you don't have to use that to kill the monsters under your bed. You could use these." He pulled out a variety of things from the bag. Bandaids, water, a golf stick (Stolen from my dad), a baseball bat, a Nerf gun, among other things.
"Thank you." I whispered, and nearly broke down again. i was so glad I had my dear brother with me.
"I won't tell mum until you destroy the monsters." he laughed. "Yeah, I won't either" I replied and took the bag from him.
"Pearl! Where are you?" my mum called out to me.
"Comin' in a sec. I quickly pulled on a jacket and headed for the doorknob.
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