Keep me Sane N.H.

1

I stood there. Waiting. The pain wasn't enough. I needed more. I took a razor blade and stopped cutting on my arms, it would only leave scars that others could find. If someone decided to check on how I'm doing and pull up my sleeve, they'd think I'm hurting myself again. I realized this when my therapist, Miss Addison, asked me to pull my sleeves up. I couldn't avoid what she asked me, so I did. She gasped at the marks revealed on my skin. Especially the most recent ones. She was supposed to report everything to my parents, but this one, they don't know about. I assume she hasn't told them. There are scars on my thighs now. No one would ever ask me to let them see my thighs.

Today at school, things were bad again. I opened my locker only to see packets of birth control pills, contraceptives, and pregnancy tests fall out. I took a good look at my locker covered in scent of pig. I look at the ooze and red splatters all over my locker. Someone wrote "Whore" along with "Slut" in my locker. On someone's locker next to mine they wrote "The Skank's Next Door" with an arrow pointing to mine. Someone came behind and slammed my door to hit me on the side causing something to pop and splatter on my face.

"Pig's blood for a pig." She spat.

"Then you must have lots of it running through your veins then." The moment the words left that mouth, I felt sorry for that person. I felt regret for them. It was only to realize that those words my mouth. My body feels numb and my eyes feel heavy as filled with a long term sleep that will end my misery. I lift myself up, I feel my lip quivering, and I try to swallow the lump in my throat. Not show my weakness, but my will is too weak. I wish that I could push away feeling anything down so deep that I couldn't feel a thing, but I can't.

Foundation.

Covering my face with foundation. Foundation was my best friend. Not in the way other girls see it to cover their pimples, freckles, and the rest of their imperfections. I cover the beatings. I pull my hood over my head and left school as soon as possible. This was normal to me. I got home my parents would be at work making money to pay off my brother's school. Not to mention only his because in all honesty, they have no hope for me. No one does. I even lost hope in myself.

I took a shower letting my weakness, my hurt, and my pain wash away with the water down the drainage. I showered in cold water. It was what I was used to being surrounded in. I let my hand trace my scars, slowly running a loofah with soap over my damaged skin. It gave me shudders.

The cold was something I felt I lived in and even when I got out of the shower, the cold continued to fill a presence on me. I put on a gray long sleeve sweater dress, black tights and brown ankle boots. I felt like I had a bad case of hypothermia. My body couldn't stop trembling. I threw on a beanie, gloves, an overcoat, and a scarf. I had to take the bus there since my mom was only going to be able to pick me up and even then, she forgets about me. I honestly don't know why I even go. I mean my parents really don't give a crap. I sat on the bus when people stared at me with pity. I questioned why, but I remembered I forgot to cover any bruises or cuts on my face after I showered. I couldn't manage to find a way to calm down. What if Miss Addison told my parents? What if she thought that I was doing this to myself? What if she thought I was weak and served no purpose to life like the rest of the world? My chest felt tight, my throat felt like it was slowly closing, and I felt the need to jump out the window of the bus. I ran my hands over my face, often pulling down my cheeks as if I couldn't find my sanity. I felt like the oxygen inside was slowly being taken away from the air and even from my lungs. I pressed the button for the stop asking people kindly to move out of the way as I breathed heavily.

I counted my fingers. "One. Two...Three. Four...Five... This is real," I said to myself. "I'm okay. I'm perfectly fine...Nothing is wrong with me." My breathing began to slow down. "I'm okay. I'm okay." I wiped my tear away. I walked into the building and took the lift. I wanted to break down. I wanted to cry like a scared child, but if I did, I knew no one would turn to give me the patience, the care or love I needed or deserved.

The doors opened and I sat there, knowing I was a few minutes early. When it was finally my turn, Miss Addison was shocked at my image, but offered a smile. I knew it. I knew she would do something like that. She's probably up in her mind making so many assumptions about me and thinking how I'm a worthless kid and all she has to do is sit there and pretend like she cares and pretend like she knows how to help me. But no one ever does.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked. Yes.

"No," I answered, fighting my real answer.

"So you don't want to tell me the story?"

"No." I responded, I can't.

"So you don't plan on telling me who did this to you?"

"No- I mean-Ugh." I groaned. She got a degree for twisting people's words. I should think about that. I crossed my arms and stopped talking to her. I remembered that I kept my journal in my coat's large pocket, so I began to write. When she told me the session was over, I closed the book and walked out. I looked at the waiting room to see the blonde haired boy who somehow with his presence, made me forget about suffering. He made me forget about the worries in the world, and made me feel normal. He made me feel like a somebody even if I was nobody to him. We didn't even know each other.

I sat across from him as he fiddled with a DSLR camera. He didn't notice I was there until he looked through the lens of his camera. He snapped a picture, but then stood straight as he looked at me. I felt some type of shame like I didn't deserve his stare, nor to be a picture on his camera. I came across his cold hard stare, but I couldn't look away. I felt drawn to know what he was thinking about whether if he was trying to figure out who I am or what the hell is wrong with me.

But all he did was stand up and walked a distance, turned to me, snapped a picture and said: "Beautiful." He walked off and into Miss Addison's office closing the door behind him.

And his word stuck through my head through the week. It didn't matter what happened to me. It made me look forward to Monday. I felt a small bit of happiness that I have never felt before. In a way, that one simple word he said to me did something I never believe words could manage to do. It found a way to keep me alive.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Instagram

-> @1d_prefs_wattpad

->@Londondreamer123

-> @x.u.suck.x

->@aundreyy

Tumblr

-> @Londondreamer123

->@x-u-suck-x

Twitter

@u_suck_x

@aundreyy

Follow the co-writer (wattpad) -> @aundreyy