Blur Me Out

4

I lie in Hayden's bed. It's something I do quite often. Sometimes I wonder; What would have happened if my attempt succeeded? Would I be surrounded by green pastures and an overwhelming sense of calmness? Most likely, I would be doused with scalding hot fire. Suicide is a sin. I've heard it preached to me over and over through the years by my mother, a devout Christian. Maybe that's why she won't come and visit. She can't bear the fact that her daughter would end up in hell. The thing is, I already live in hell. If being choked and drowned in fire forever will cure me, then I will do it. Anything to cure me.

I had a revelation late last night, staring out the window and into the dim, bleak sky. I cannot hide from what I am anymore. I cannot conceal and mask my condition, and if it will cure me then I must accept my fate. But I have a voice nagging at me in the back of my mind. Unlike the other voices. For a fluttering second, I thought it was my conscious. Maybe, It's the angell, or the intercessor battling for my mind.

Yes, I cannot hide my fate.

I am ugly.

I am sick.

I am disgusting.

There. I said it. For once, my mind feels at peace. For once it is not being torn and intricately thrown around bit by bit and piece by piece. Even if, only for a moment, there is calm. I will relish it and remember it to no end. I will look back and say to myself, "Remember when you felt normal?" I will take refuge in the fact, that for once, I was like everybody else.

I want to talk to Sonya.

I rise up from the bed and walk down looking for Sonya, only to see Hayden in the living room talking to some girl. I look at Hayden. In the little time, I have known him, he has not looked this happy. But now, he seemed exuberant. He grasped the girl's hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. They looked complete. The girl laughs at something Hayden says, turning around in the process. Thankfully, she does not spot me. I gasp as I get a look at her face.

She is beautiful beyond words. Her beautiful porcelain skin delicately contrasts with her shining blonde hair. Her blue eyes strike everywhere they land with grace. I look down at my dull brown skin and think of my ugly brown eyes. She is beautiful. I am ugly. I am sick.I am disgusting.

I am disgusted with myself. Sonya fades away from my thoughts. My mind remembers what helped before suicide.

I remember the pleasure of running a blade down my wrist. I could sit for hours in the bathroom, watching the blood flood down my arms. I quietly walk back up the stairs and go into their bathroom.

I glance at my arms. I still feel the pain when I look at them. But, how delectable the pain is. It's as sweet as sugar in my mind. My arm contains dozens of beautiful, faded white scars. This was supposed to be the first way. The first way to go. After doing my research, I heard that slitting your wrist doesn't work. But how nice it feels.

I get down on my knees and rummage through the bathroom drawers. Then finally, I find it. A removable razor. I hold it to my wrist, still circumspect, but ready. I close my eyes and let my hands carve.

I feel the cold metal of the razor digging into my flesh. I relish it. I feel the blood cry down my arm and I let it run. I open my eyes with a certain task set in mind.

I concentrate on my skin as I allow the sharp object to carve my being. D...I...S...G...U...S...T...I...N...G... Then I look at my art. My motto. I know I have said this many times, but I feel complete.

I move to the next hand to do the same thing.

But as I start on the first letter, the doorknob jiggles. I widen my eyes in realization. I did not lock the door. In walks Hayden, who is wordless. His eyes are wider than mine in horror. I look up into his eyes. I mentally beg him not to speak of it. I verbally plead as well.

I stare back at him in need.

"Please."

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I stare into Caitlin's deep blue eyes. She truly is so beautiful. I caress her yellow hair, and love how soft it is.I make a joke to her and her laugh is sweet to my ears.

"You're so mean Hayden! I do, not sound like that!" She laughs, Her smile shining through.

I smile back at her.

"Sure. Well, if you don't believe me I guess I'll just have to pull out the...tickle monster!" I say, surely sounding like an idiot. I don't care though. It's only been months, and I love her. I'm sure of it. I'm just not brave enough to say that to her face.

As I'm about to tickle her, her phone rings, stopping our fun.

"That's my Mom. She's probably here to pick me up. I should go meet her."

"Bye Hayden." She chuckles and gets up to leave.

"Bye KitKat." I say, cringing at my cheery, so not me, nickname.

I almost tell her I love her, but I manage to hold my tongue as she walks to the door. I turn, and walk upstairs to my room, Only stopping when I reach the top of the stairs. I guess I forgot that my room is not my room anymore. It now belongs to...A.J.

There is definitely something off about her. Even when she's around me, she's never quite in reality. She's always in her head, and it takes all I have in me not to ask what type of war is raging all the time to keep her that occupied with herself.

I hear a noise in the bathroom, almost like slight murmuring. I walk towards the door, and then I knock once...twice...still, no answer.

I swing open the door, and my eyes widen in horror at the site. The smell of blood hits my senses, and I can taste it in the back of my throat. In the middle of the bathroom floor sits A.J., Eyes dropped open, and mouth agape. I look at her arm, which is covered in blood and scars. I open my mouth multiple times like a fish but nothing comes out. Then I realize, there are words carved into her arm. I can't make it out, but it seems to read Disgust. Why would she inflict that permanent mark on her body forever?

I look back at her, and she stares up at me, almost calling out to me for help. She looks desperate and needy. Broken. As we gaze at each other in surprise, she opens her mouth and breathes out one word.

"Please."

I look at her. Please what? What am I supposed to do with this newfound information that our special little guest cuts herself? She seems to snap back into realization.

"H-Hayden, please! You cannot tell Sonya about it she'll hate m-me! I know you do but p-please! You have to promise me you won't tell her, she'll send me back."

With those words, I run. I speed off into the garage where I'm staying and slam the door behind me. I slide down the door and breathe shakily.

Is this my fault? I knew I teased her, but did I push her over the edge. If I had known, I would never have spoken.

God.

I fucked up.