My 18th Death

Cut Her

Just a quick trigger warning, this chapter contains self-harm.

I sneaked behind the couch and dinner table and into the cabinet where all of the supplies are located.

Knives, spoons, forks. You name it.

I open the cabinet trying not to make any noise at all. I carefully pull out a perfect gleaming knife that twinkles from the light bulb reflecting off of it.
I see my reflection and can't help but chuckle, no wonder I'm so hated. Look at me, I'm the ugliest creature to roam earth, am I even human?

My tears roll down my dark brown skin and onto my puffy pink lips. I quickly and carefully sprint upstairs towards the bathroom remembering to lock the door.

As I pull up my sleeve revealing long pale brown scars across my entire left and right arm.

I gently put the knife down on the skin but then add more pressure and force as I make a clean cute across the center of my arm.

Red stops popping up through the sections of the cute where they are deepest. They then turn into a ton of ruby red balls popping up on my cut.

I repeat this procedure at least 12 times on each arm. Until I finally grow less anxious.

Why do I cut? Simple answer.

I have to let my anger out on someone.

I'm too scared to let my emotions out on an innocent beautiful loved human being.

So I turn to the last person there, the last person who doesn't seem to go away. The last person that reminds me of my tragedies and misfortunes every single day of my life.

Myself.

I can't help but be mad at her. Angry. Frustrated. Furious.

To know that just by turning around and looking into the mirror I can find such a horrible being. That ugly rude demon who says shit to me.

It feels so nice to give her physical pain after all of the emotional pain she has put me through.

I stand up, washing off the knife and my arm. I place dis-infecting medicine on my wounds so they won't be as red and noticeable.

I put bandaids down on the cuts that are deepest, and then unlock the bathroom door and roaming into my bedroom.

I soak myself in tears and plug in my earphones. Through my phone I play my same playlist that I named "For Sad Times." Who knew that everyday I would feel the need to play this list.

I cover myself in blankets and close my eyes falling into a deep sleep.