Collection Of Stray Thoughts

The Realization

He entered his room as if the devil himself was after him and quickly bolted the door as if it might keep that devil out.

He rested for a second against the door with closed eyes. Some time and a few deep breaths gave him the courage to open them again.

They were glossy with unshed tears and his lower lip was trembling.

Again he took calming shaky breaths -- a weak attempt to stabilize his restless heart and salt water filled eyes. 

He moved his hand and brought it up to his chest and lightly thumped his fist on his heart. Then as if suddenly jolted awake, he dropped his hand and moved quickly towards his cupboard.

Opening a drawer, he hurriedly started rummaging through it, pushing everything aside. 

After a few minutes of pointless searching, the boy finally found what he was looking for.

He clutched it in his hand like dear life itself. His hurried footsteps carried him to the adjoining bathroom. He moved into it and turned the lock behind him. With slow steps he moved towards the white porcelain bath tub and perched himself on its end. 

Even more slowly, he opened his hand to reveal a sharp deathly blade under the dim bathroom light. The blade shone like a star of relief in his hand. His hand was pale, for he had been clutching it too hard.

With familiar practised movements, he rolled up his sleeve and brought the blade close to his skin.

His forearm was already blemished with slowly healing scars, the still red ones spoke of their recent existence. He chose a patch devoid of any marks and moved his blade against the clear skin. 

Just as he placed it over his skin something hit him, hit him like a car travelling at the speed of light. 

It hit him like the Whomping Willow, like a Firebolt at its highest speed. Like the big bang itself.

It hit him hard and fast. The wheels stopped turning in his head as he realized what he was about to do, what he had been doing for ages. 

Ruining the one sole thing that he had control over, the one thing that was only his. The thing that gave him an identity which was his alone.

His very own body that only he could have, that only he possessed. The one thing he was born with and was inevitably going to die with. He was taking out what others had caused on his own self rather than standing up to them. He was punishing himself for all his deeds rather than correcting them.

Rather than facing his own fears, he was running away from them; he was looking for relief and shelter when all he needed to do was stand up and fight back, with pride. When all he had to do was let it all go, force it all to release his mind and body.

Numbly, he heard the distant thud of the blade as it clattered on the ground. The wheels in his head started like an old engine coming to life, for it really had been a long time since it had really come to life. With swift movements, he got up and opened the lock.

He moved towards his bedroom door, his footsteps well placed and firm.

For a moment he just stood there, taking deep breaths before holding his head high and with a smile stretched on his face, he turned the lock, ready to face the devil on the other side.

A lone drop glistening on his arm.