Astraea

-1-

"Why are you here?," she repeated her insensitive intrusive question but given the situation one might not feel that it is invasive.

The room was warmly lit with vivid hues of blues and yellows in an attempt to create an open warm atmosphere that would invite us to share the treacherous activities that we had indulged in that led us here.

We were told that we couldnt make our own decisions, that we lacked a basic human capability that would allow us to survive.

I just wanted him.

I didn't really want to die no matter how much my heart hurt unless he decided I deserved it. Maybe, but he was never wrong. I cleared my dry throat and looked at the fresh cuts on my arm for motivation to get through this bullshit.

"Have you ever loved someone so much that it is to your detriment? That you find yourself dying in the literal sense?

Your dreams die, you sacrifice it all for them, your drive, passion, happiness mentality? Until all that is left is a shell of the person you once were. You ask yourself why he left you instead of why you allowed yourself to become prey to him."

"Astraea you are 19 but you wrote an iron clad agreement stating you would come for help if we didnt charge him with the multiple counts of attempted murder and domestic abuse they had against him. All his actions amount to all types of abuse but you managed to convince an entire justice system to let this man walk. You are so bright and have so much potential and yet here we are."

"The greater injustice wouldve been to put a good man -"

I broke off.

I was done talking. They would never understand things from my perspective so why waste my breath on this shit?

"Stop riding my dick so hard you will chaff."

I smiled innocently at her. She nodded in understanding realising that the conversation had come to an end and that she would not get more from me. They sent me back to my room.

My mirror had been taken away after I had smashed the last one and given myself shallow cuts. They werent deep enough for suicide rather they were deep enough to make me feel something more than just a painful existence.

Those cuts allowed me to function. After cutting, my mind was always clear and I could think better.

This rehab was what my parents called affection.

In reality it was just them incarcerating me in a mental health facility. I loved them both dearly, but my parents needed help. They had given birth to a sociopath who was too smart for them but not smart enough to be a genius.

I always seemed to lack stability on the emotional side, I could convince everyone I was fine. Whore out myself, allow everyone to see what they wanted, the good girl, the polite girl, the smart girl.

I gave myself over and over to them. I wanted to see them smile and create the picture-perfect family to the world. My father a doctor and my mother, a trophy wife who is a best-selling author when she pleases.

Her books are parenting types and sometimes she writes about her self esteem issues. She is a beautiful soul through and through just very fragile.

My father a hard man who is passionate about the preservation of life, helped my mother rebuild herself. The irony is that sometimes Im passionate in my pursuit of wanting to end my life.

Her fragility is a major source of my mental anxiety.

I survived high school playing the perfect daughter and used cutting sparingly so that I wouldnt raise any alarm bells in my parents.