Battle Scars

thirty

Ugly. Ugly. Ugly.

The same word has repeated in my head for what feels like hours.

The atmosphere is thick and humid. I can already feel the sweat sink into my braids.

Twisting, turning, groaning, soaking. I throw the sheets off of my body, then watch as they land flat on the ground.

My mind is a bully; a power-hungry fiend. I don't want to think of every single embarrassing thing I've ever done. I don't want to picture life back at school. I don't want to think of Veronica, of Lynn, of Emily, of Ethan..

Pacing, pacing, pacing... I pace into the bathroom and shut the unlocked door. I stare into the mirror. In horror, I stare at the black bags forming under my eyes. Have I really been lacking sleep that badly? I analyze my jaw, my stomach, my thighs. Have I been gaining weight as well?

Its all in your head. Ethan would say. Don't listen to the judgement voices.

Ugly.

I hear a sudden knock on the door. After straightening myself out, I open the door to Robin.

She looks...better?

"Hey." Is all she says.

"Do you-?" I gesture to the toilet.

"Yeah." She yawns. "Better to use it before breakfast than during the long line of people about to piss their pants."

I chuckle, then trade places with her. I quickly analyze her face. She looks less sickly. Her color is returning.

"Why are you up so early, anyways? Same idea?"

I hesitate before coming up with an excuse. "Uh, I actually had to change my tampon."

Robin snickers and shakes her head before shutting the door. "Well, good luck with that."

I walk back to my bed and collapse on the sheetless mattress. That's when the word returns.

Ugly.

My heart rate kicks up. I punch my bed in utter frustration. Why? Please just shut up. Let me rest.

Ugly.

My eyes widen as I suddenly remember the paperclip I found during my first day here.

Ugly.

I exhale and reach under the mattress. I move my hand around until I feel a sprawled-out paperclip.

Ugly!

Shut up!

My hands shake as I obtain the ghetto blade. They reach back towards my other arm.

Ugly!

I want to. I want to give in. Its so close. I want to feel the pain again.

But I've come so far without it.

Ugly!

Shut up!

The toilet flushes from the bathroom, and suddenly I'm okay. I feel myself breathing normally. I'm alright, and back in reality. I feel sweatier than ever before, but my heart rate returns to normal.

I breathe slowly. In and out, in and out...

The door opens and out comes Robin. Once again, she's yawning. When she looks at me, I can only imagine what facial expression she's seeing.

"Amber! What the hell!"

I feel confused as all hell, that is until I noticed the paperclip balled up in my right fist.

I unclench, and blood falls from my palm. I wince as I suddenly feel the pain.

"Collins! Literally what the hell!" Robin rushes over to my side. She contemplates for a second before grabbing the paperclip from the ground. She then rushes into the bathroom for toilet paper. The toilet flushes, as I assume she's flushing the paperclip.

Seconds later, she runs out and wraps my wound. I flex my hand to absorb the blood, and let out an "ow!"

Robin makes brief eye contact with me before shaking her head. "Well, yeah. That was a pretty dumb decision."

My response is an exhale. I scoot back and lay my head on the pillow. I don't want to admut it, but I agree.

"I thought you were done with that shit? Maybe it is a good idea to keep you here longer."

"Please just shut up. My brain has been talking me down all night, I dont need to hear it from you."

Robin hops on her bed and backs up against the wall. "Yeah imagine how I feel."

I give her a beief stare before retrieving the sheets on the floor, careful not to irritate my wound.

We all meet in the day room in an hour. I have some time to snooze.

Unfortunately, I start to think. That keeps me awake. I start to count the ceiling tiles, losing count every time as always. I pick at the toilet paper, and outline the wounds with my fingertip. Finally, Robin speaks and breaks the silence.

"Why do you enjoy hurting yourself?"

I don't answer for a second. I ask myself the same question. Why does physical pain block out mental pain? I don't know how to respond. I think for another second.

"It silences the noise." I answer.

She returns the silence, then sinks into her sheets. I start to feel the familiar vibe coming from Robin: Cold from trauma, stunned from fear. Paranoid from her own mind.

"Don't ever do that shit to yourself again." She says. I don't answer, but when she looks at me I give her a single nod.

"Do you understand me? Pain is pain. It comes and goes and you cannot block it out with other pain. One day you could cut too deep and then pain will be the last thing you ever feel."

I nod again, actually taking in her words. I let out a soft, "I'm sorry."

She shifts in her bed and exhales. "Take better care of yourself, Collins."

Robin doesn't ask any more questions. She just turns over in her bed, facing the wall.