The Accident: Based On A True Story

Chapter Eighteen

Walking into my dark house, I turn on a few lights downstairs. I still feel cocaine running through my body. I should probably get some food into my body.

"What should I eat?", I thought standing in front of the opened fridge. Eventually deciding on a Easy Mac cup in the cupboard. I don't want to waste this high on trying to find something I really want or making something. I put the water in pop it in the microwave. I get a glance of myself in the microwave doors. My makeup is a disaster.

"I'd appreciate it if you refrained from telling my dad things about me.", I hear. Turning around, I see Sarah in the kitchen. She must have just got home from God knows where.

"I didn't.", I replied.

"Stop lying Casey."

"I'm not lying.", I said as I tried to keep my cool.

"He told me!", she said raising her voice. "You told him I haven't been around but did you think to tell him why?"

"I told him.", I replied with some anger in my voice but still refraining from yelling. "I told him you were with David."

Sarah put her hand to her forehead.

"He asked me how we were.", I said.

"Well that's nobody's business! I am fine. We are doing fine."

"Yeah, okay.", I sarcastically said as I grabbed my food put of the microwave.

"What does that supposed to mean?", she asked as she quickly came towards me.

Giving up, I don't know what else to say or do when it comes to her. " Nothing. I'm going to bed."

"We aren't finished.", I heard from behind me as she grabbed my wrist.

"Ow! Let go!", I told her as I pulled my arm away and the Easy Mac cup fell on the floor upside down.

"Clean it up.", she said looking like she hasn't slept in awhile.

"Do it yourself." I can't believe I had the balls to say that but as the drugs were wearing off, my emotions, like boiling water, were about to overflow if I didn't walk away.

I locked myself in the bathroom, crying as my back slid down the bathroom door to floor. A shaver its on my bathroom counter. I've never done it before but any other felling that what I'm feeling now couldn't be worse. Grabbing it I try to get the blade out but it doesn't budge. I grabbed a pair of scissors from the door and piece by piece, cut the plastic off around the blades until one blade pops out. Tossing the razor in the shaver, I sit on the lid of toilet, with the blade in my right hand, contemplating what I'm about to do. My arm may be broken but the use of my fingertips, without the sling, are working fine.

Like a knife slicing through butter, the blade glided across my arm as easily. I wasn't trying to kill myself so I knew what I shouldn't do. I'm not the first or the last person I've known to do it. By the time I finished, I had several small cuts on my left forearm. It hurt a lot but I was right. It was nothing compared to everything else I've been feeling. I always thought the kids who did this were just emo and wanted attention. That was until I started doing it myself. There's so much more to it. At least for a lot of us.

Finished, I stash the blade underneath my toothbrush holder, throw on a dirty sweatshirt from hamper to cover my arms and go back down to the kitchen to clean up the mess. It was still there.

You know, I don't even usually eat these Mac and cheese things. Summer loved them. When I was at the store with Eric the other day, I grabbed them not realizing until I had got home and put them away what I had done. Even the smallest things I seem to screw up.