Broken

Pristine

I sat there staring out the window for what seemed like forever. The hot tears streaming down my cheeks seemed to never stop. I was vulnerable for the first time in years and look where it got me, I became a spectacle in the local coffee shop. As the minutes ticked by I finally forced my self to get out of the chair that I had been glued to for the past hour. I trudged towards the exit when someone called out to me.

"Excuse me, Miss?" The barista attempted to get my attention.

I turned arounds with little enthusiasm. I did not want to deal with anyone, especially someone who was always perky and elated. "Yes?" I asked with possibly fakest smile I've ever had plastered on my face.

"That boy you were with earlier, could you possibly, maybe, give me his number?" She looked down with her cheeks flushed a soft pink and started playing with her luscious brown hair.

I don't remember what I said next but by the barista's facial expression, it was something offensive. Normally I would steer clear of profanities, but that day was the exception. I stormed out of their with my fists clenched, muttering to myself. "Could you possibly, maybe?" I continued to snarl. All I could hear on the drive home was Avril Lavigne blasting through my speakers.

Pulling up the cracked driveway towards my house was agonizing. I never knew what to expect from her. Somedays she will have an epiphany and completely clear the house, "a fresh start," she would call it. After a day though, it would be reversed. She would already miss it. Others, she would act completely aggressive and then pass out from being drunk. I crept in hoping not to wake the sleeping beauty of my mother. If I was lucky, I would make it to my room and no one would be upset but today was not a lucky day. I tiptoed past the once pale blue couch now speckled with black cigarette burns. Left foot, right foot, left foot, until a loud creaking noise came from underneath me. My whole body shuddered with terror, somehow my mom was the lightest and heaviest sleeper at the same time. I could already hear something stirring in her room at the end of the hall. Part of my self wanted to bolt out the door but mostly I just wanted to melt into a pile of nothingness.

"Delilah!" She exclaimed. I could already hear the anger in her voice. "You know the rules!" she continued as she attempted to turn the scratched up gold doorknob. When she finally opened the door, I could already feeling a panic attack coming on. My chest was starting to get tight and my palms were as sweaty as a pig. She stomped towards me, anger in her bloodshot eyes. It was scary how much we looked alike, we both had small waists and a feminine body. Our only differences were my very full rosy cheeks, her consistent frown lines, and the wisps of grey in her dirty blonde hair. It was almost as if I was attacking myself.

My panic attack was growing stronger, I started hyperventilating. My hands were clenched in tight balls and had gone completely numb by the time she had stumbled to me. The hand was raised in slow motion, slowly coming down to strike my face. The pain wasn't as bad as it used to be; I had grown accustomed to it. I could almost feel the redness spreading, the nerves on my cheeks slowly tingling across my whole face. After the initial blow, all I could focus on was my panic attack. I felt like I was losing my mind. I could feel the bile rising up my throat. I just sat down and let her get her anger out. Waiting for her to calm down. Waiting for my brain to calm down. We both did calm down, like we always do, and as always it seemed to be forever for both of us to calm down.

I forced my self off the ground and slowly walk to the bathroom grabbing to beige hallway walls for balance. I closed the door with caution to make sure not to disturb my mom. I let myself go at that point. The tears streamed down my sweaty face while I desperately tried to dry off my clammy hands on my jeans. My heart twinged with pain from the day. I always thought I must've done something to really tick God off to deserve this but I eventually learned everything happens for a reason. My hands forced open my bathroom drawer, trying to find a little shiny piece of metal. My heart longed for my best friend, Anna, to be there. She would show up with her calming pale blue-grey eyes and wrap her arms around me and we would just sit their in silence while I cried. Anna wasn't there though, she was with her white picket fence family in Mexico. She wasn't there to keep me close so I had to resort to my other companion, my blade. When my fingers finally touched the smooth service, I pulled it out with caution, admiring its' shiny pristine service. I looked up into the mirror for a split second and instantly felt disgust. My mascara had ran down to the bottom of my baby-like cheeks, the whites of my pretty green eyes were red from the salty tears gushing down my face, and a bruise already had started to form on my cheekbone. I could've produced my own Niagara Falls from all the tears I had shed that day.

I glanced back at my blade. I gently lowered myself to the floor, placing my left palm to the cool hard ground. The coolness of the floor calmed me, then I raised my wrist. It was so delicate and flawless compared to my scarred thighs. I pierced the skin of my wrist, the pain instantly hushing the racing thoughts of my brain. I swiped the rest of the blade through my arm, relaxing as I watching the bright red blood trickle out of my soft skin.