Tattooed Emotions

29

Dan

I waited until I heard them leave, before sneaking out of my room to shower.

Cold water pattered down onto my skin, where I saw bruises already forming.

I hated it so much. I was marked by them. A sign to tell me that it really happened. That it wasn't just some sick and twisted dream.

I scrubbed my body until it was red raw, and it still wasn't enough. I could feel them inside me. Their hands on me, covering me. I wanted to rid myself of them, but I couldn't.

I never would be able to.

After what seemed like hours, I finally stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my torso and creeping back into my bedroom.

After quickly dressing myself, I laid on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as tears dripped down my cheeks.

Cut.

The thought flashed in front of my mind momentarily.

Cut.

There it was again, drowning out the pain I felt, my mind fixed on the satisfaction from metal on my skin.

Cut out all of their badness. Cut it off your skin. Cleanse yourself of them.

The blade found itself into my hand. My mind felt like fog as I haphazardly placed the sharp edge on my wrist and pulled back.

Pain seared through me, launching me out of my dreamlike state and back into reality, before all too quickly the fog descended on me again.

I cut again, watching as blood pooled at the incision.

Each time, I was rewarded with the feeling of being present, but it was fleeting. It never stayed.

I needed more.

My arms became indecipherable chunks of bleeding flesh, and I was quickly running out of skin to tear open.

Yet tears still streamed down my face, and I still felt the fog over me. I still felt unclean. I still felt hopeless.

End it.

It seemed like the perfect idea.

I'd thought of it before but it never really seemed doable, but in this moment I was determined that it would work. I was so done with everything, I just wanted it to be over. I just want it to end.

I couldn't take any more of it.

So I slipped the blade into the bottom of my shoe, and threw myself out of my bedroom window, groaning as my limbs hit the ground in an unnatural way.

It didn't matter. The pain would be over soon.

So in the darkness of night, I stood up and limped towards my death. My mind was fixed on one thing.

Freedom.