Warning * self-harm
10:37 PM
"You're such a loser! "
Slap
"Mom and dad hate you! "
Punch
"You should have never been born!"
Kick
"If I wouldn't get into trouble, I would kill you myself! "
Punch
My sister left me in the corner of my room to cry to myself.
I knew I would be sporting new bruises in the morning.
I don't know how long I spent in that position until I finally got up.
I walked into my closet and reached into the back of one of my shoe racks.
I grabbed my box.
This box was my escape.
It contained the reasons of my pain.
Everytime something happened I would write it down.
I took the key that was on a chain around my neck and unlocked it.
I grabbed a piece of paper and pen off my desk and began writing:
I don't get it. Why does she hate me so much? All because I got a shirt that she wanted and I wouldn't give it to her. Does she not understand the things she says to me? The way she makes me hurt, mentally and physically? She drawls me to the line sometimes. It will never change.
I folded the paper and stuck it with the others.
I grabbed an envelope that was inside.
I took out the object inside.
The object that helps me escape.
The sharp little razor that I put away my problems on.
I took my shirt off, leaving me in my sports bra.
My abdomen was already scarred from previous mishaps.
I took a deep breath in as I put the razor to my skin, dragging it along, cutting open the flesh that lay beneath.
It hurt, but I have felt worse. Heard worse.
I picked the razor up put it in a new spot, cutting the skin there as well.
I pulled the razor back up examining it.
Blood is a funny thing.
It appears when you fall and scrape your knee.
It appears when you crash on your bicycle.
It appears whenever you are hurting. When you are at your worst.
At the same time, it appears when you are happy.
When you first become a woman, it appears then.
When you bring new life into the world by giving birth, blood is there as well.
Blood is a strange thing.
After adding two more cuts, I put the shiny, metal object back into the envelope and place it in the box.
I lock the box and put it back, hidden, in my shoe rack.
Away from prying eyes.
Where no one will see it.
_______________________________________
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Everywhere I Turn {Completed}{Unedited}
Short StoryIn every person, there is hurt. It may be expected in some people, but everyone has there story. Even the unexpected. You don't know how that person thinks, how they feel. On the outside, they may be happy and up beat. But, that could just be a di...
