shattered

chapter 7

"Glass. That was the first attempt." I feel myself being pulled back into that night. God I was numb. It had been raining, so I was damp, but I didn't feel cold from the rain. I felt cold from inside myself. Like everything had broken and been destroyed, and I was trying to pick up the shattered pieces in a frozen desert. My fingers not being able to grasp a single piece. Only getting cut more and more with every attempt.

I stumbled through town until I came across a motel.

That room. God, what a cliche. Everything about it was what anyone would expect to find in those Hollywood films where you can rent a room for an hour.

The thoughts running through my head. I don't want to remember that time. I don't want to think about how alone and abandoned I felt. I don't want to crawl back into the dark pits of Hell and remember.

"I woke up in the hospital. No idea who found me. No idea how I got there. Woke up strapped to a bed, 'to make sure I couldn't hurt myself', or some such bullshit."

"No one but the doctors visited me for over a fortnight. Checking the wounds and seeing a psychologist. That's it, and then I got sent home again. My parents watched me like a hawk. My bedroom was stripped of everything that they thought could hurt me, and I had to have all my meals supervised. Because, you know, I was totally going to hurt myself while eating my dinner." I roll my eyes at my parents stupidity. They didn't think about the staples or the paperclips in my pencil case, or even the paper.

"The second time, um, that was pills. My mother was still on some pretty hardcore medication... and I had been slowly taking tablets. Then they went out for an evening. Yeah, I downed as much as I could." I release a sigh. The feeling coming back to me. God, I felt so weightless, so relaxed, like nothing could touch me, or hurt me. I miss that feeling.

"Woke up in hospital again, stomach pumped. My parents had come home because my mother forgot something, found me passed out on the floor, with tablets spilled everywhere." I shrug like it wasn't a big deal. I'm sure he thinks I'm being blasè about it, but that's not it. It hurts to talk about this, and I'm not telling him everything. I will never tell him everything. I will never tell anyone everything. They can't know. No one can know how broken I really am. No one can know just how dirty and disgusting I am.

"Spent two months here after that." I look up at him. His eyes lock onto mine. I could get lost in those brown depths.

"And then... well, then it was this time. Again I cut myself," I rub at my arm, tugging the sleeve down into place, so he can't see what I did. So no one can see what I've done.

"Apparently, this was the closest call." Not close enough. I'm still here. Always close. But never close enough.
"I've been here... um... four months? I think. I dunno. Time seems to pass differently here. Some days fly by, and others seem to drag for months."

"Do you know when you're getting out?" He asks quietly.

A sad smile crosses my lips.
"If my parents have any say, then never. I'm too much trouble. I'm not good enough for them anymore. I'm not the perfect child they want and need. So... I guess, I've been tossed aside?" My voice wobbles at the end.

I rub at my chest again. My eyes shutting as I remember my parents packing my bags and telling me if I was going to be like this, then I could no longer be part of their family. They were going to get me admitted here, because I wasn't right in the head.

That hurt more than I expected it to. I don't know why it hurt so much. They had made it clear to me plenty of times that I wasn't good enough. Even when I was perfect. I wasn't good enough. So why did it shock me when they threw me away? Why did I think they were joking? They had never been the type of people to joke around. Well, maybe before my sister passed, but after... never. It was a very rare day when I saw either of them crack a smile.

Not that I was much better. I smiled when it was expected. I laughed when needed, but... it was dead, hollow. I had curled up so deep in my head, all anyone got to see was a shell. I don't think I even knew who the real me was anymore. I'm not sure I even do now.

I can't even guarantee my smiles are real now. I can't say my laugh is genuine either. There's so much of me locked away... I have lost the parts of me that were real.

"So have they come to see you? Your parents, I mean."

I just shake my head. They haven't visited me before. Why would they start now?

"Um... so. Yeah. That's me. Total and complete mess." I give him a tight lipped smile.

"You're not a mess ______." His face has clouded over, like he is annoyed that I'm admitting I'm not perfect. "You are far from a mess."

I scoff at him.
"You don't know me well enough to make that kind of statement."