...But her parents weren’t giving up that easily. In one swift motion, her father slammed against the door, jarring the lock and snapping it clean off. They rushed in, finding their daughter on the floor and the broken phone lying at her feet. The still active phone flashed again, the words blurred under the shattered and scratched phone. The mother picked it up and handed it to her father, their eyes filling with tears.
‘Go die.’ It read.
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The mother paced up and down. The girl was seated gingerly on the sofa in the living room, playing nervously with the bandages wrapped round her side. Her father sat in the corner, hiding his face. He showed no emotion, but the girl had heard him at night. Tears were something, but in the night, in the darkness, they seemed more real and more heartfelt. She knew she had broken his heart with what she had done. Her mother dialled the number from her diary and sat down on the chair, not even looking at her daughter. “Hi, is this the office? I’m calling about my daughter ... Yes, I know, you have a file on her ... She came here last year after a brief phase of self harm ... I know ... I know, I’ve been here before ... Don’t take that tone with me! I don’t care ... Yes, it is urgent ... No! No we will not! ... No, I’m hanging up.” With that, she slammed the phone down. “Please, just try again. Be nice this time. Do it for her sake.” Her father pointed in the girl’s direction, not even looking up at her. He was avoiding her at all costs. So far it was working. “Don’t tell me what to do. I will try again, but not because you told me to.” Her mother picked up the phone and dialled the number for the second time that day. “Hello? Yes, this is me again ... I’m going to be nice this time ... You’re pushing me but no, I will be polite ... Okay, so when can we get an appointment? As soon as possible ... No ... No ... Maybe, I’ll check.” She leafed through her diary. “No, sorry.” After a few minutes, she pressed another button and spoke into the phone for the last time. “Name? Look on her file. Age? Look on her file. Reason? The same reason as last time. Relapse.”
YOU ARE READING
Scarlet Tears: A collection of poems, stories and quotes about self harm
PoetryA book of poetry aimed at people who have or are struggling with the addiction of self injury. These are poems highlighting the growing problems of self harm. It isn't judging, though, and doesn't insist that the person suffering MUST stop or MUST r...
