*TRIGGER WARNING - READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION*
"Who are you now? Did you say what you want? Don't go back to the start. I'm asking, who are you now? Did they break you apart? Won't you fight back for what you want?" -Sleeping With Sirens
"This can't be happening" I thought to myself.
Not again. Not after all I've worked for these past few months. I could feel it coming on, and it was too late to stop it now. Why now of all times? I haven't had a panic attack in about 6 weeks. Just when I thought I was starting to get better. The memories were flooding in like a tsunami, sudden and unexpected.
"Remember Steph: Breathe. In for 5, hold for 3, out for 7. You can do it" I repeated over and over in my head.
Shaking and hyperventilating, I let the memories of him consume me.
Flashback:
"Come on babe. Just relax it's not a big deal. Or are you too prude to do it?"
I didn't have my eyes open, but I could picture exactly how he looked. He probably had that stupid condescending look on his face, and I could tell by his voice that he was starting to get annoyed with me. I took a deep breath in, and opened my eyes. Just as I expected, that was exactly how he looked. I quickly lowered my gaze so he wouldn't know that I was looking at him. Unfortunately, he saw. He lifted my chin so I was looking him directly in the eyes. He ran his index finger down my jawline down to my collar bones, following that with gentle kisses. I knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to subconsciously lure me into submitting to his will, but I won't. Not this time.
Finding my voice, I said softly but shakily "C-Chase.. I'm n-not r-ready for this. N-not now."
I have never said no to him before, and I don't know why I did now. He pushed me against a locker, towering over me with his 5' 10" stature. I tried to shrink back, but I couldn't. He placed his hands on either side, trapping me.
Smirking, he replied "Do you really think that saying that to me was a smart choice?"
I knew I was in deep trouble now. How could I have been so stupid to think I could say no to him? He leaned in closer. He was so close that I could smell his Big Red gum that he always chews. He came closer once more. He put his lips on mine, forcing me to make out with him. I turned my head away, so his lips were on my cheek. He looked annoyed and rougly turned my head back to face him and tried once more, and I did the same thing. He gave up on that, moving on to something else. Before I knew what was going on, he was pulling down the front of my shirt and bra, leaving my boobs exposed to him. He lowered his head down and slowly started sucking on my nipples. Biting my lip, I knew I couldn't fight him now. He had gotten what he wanted: for me to give in.
After he was done with that, he slowly ran his hands down my sides, and onto my butt.
"Why did I wear leggings today of all days?!" I thought to myself.
I felt him slide his hands down into my pants, easily surpassing my underwear because it was a thong. The feeling of him caressing my butt softly gave me chills, and not the good kind. I could feel him moving his way to the front, and I couldn't take it anymore. Just then my phone buzzed. Talk about a miracle right there. He took my phone out of the pocket and read the message. It said that my best friend, Marissa, needed help hallway decorating, and it was insanely important.
He removed his hand from my pants annoyed, and growled to me "you got lucky. You better not tell anyone about this."
I nodded and grabbed my things quickly and ran out of the room before he had the chance to change his mind. I went to the girl's bathroom and dropped all my things on the floor. I pressed my back against the cold brick wall and slid down so that I was sitting with my head between my knees. After about 5 minutes, I gathered my things and went to go help Marissa, trying to keep as emotionless as possible.
End of flashback
The memory of what he did to me shattered into a million pieces as I snapped back to reality. Looking down at my thigh, I noticed my scars healed. Shaking, I reached over and opened my bedside table drawer. I pulled out my razors which were in a small tin, and a pair of scissors. Sitting down on the edge of my bed, I opened up the tin with shaky hands. I was about to waste almost a month and a half being clean. But who cares. I deserve the pain. It's my fault that he did that to me anyways. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I pulled out a razor. Holding it in my hand, I brought the blade down to my thigh, pressed down hard and moved it across the top. Looking down, I could see the blood beading up at the surface of the cut. God, I'd forgotten how addicting the feel of the cold metal piercing my skin was.
I don't know why people don't understand cutting. I cut because it's a distraction. For one moment, I don't feel all the pain, the loss, and the hurt that I have. All you feel is the razor going into your skin and the blood dripping down your body. You don't think about anything else but the blood. So what's the addicting part? When the hurt and the pain comes back. When the cut isn't fresh anymore and you can feel all the built up sadness and loneliness inside. So you have to do it again, this time a little bit deeper so the numbness you get from it will last longer. The pain inside of you will be delayed longer. As the pain inside gets worse, you have to make the pain on the outside worse too. It's all about control. You can't control the pain on the inside, so you get to control it on the outside. Looking down at the series of cuts, I feel sick to my stomach. I wipe them off and clean them, ignoring the burn of the peroxide. I decide it's probably a good idea to go to sleep, even though it's only 9:40. I should really go to sleep early if I even want to try to enjoy the rest of my weekend. Being a zombie wouldn't help with that, considering the current situation. I lean over and shut off my light, drifting into a numb, peaceful sleep.
