The Only Reason

Relapse

I've been getting anonymous texts from a blocked number. Whoever it is, they're out to get me. Threat from threat, day after day. 

I shook the first couple off, but as they continued, i started to worry. The texts would say stuff like: "you're wortless" "cunt"  "bitch" "if you don't kill yourself soon, i will." I started to stress, and when i'm stressed, i start to isolate myself. Not text people, don't get on social media. And Niall started to notice.

He asked if i wanted to hang out a couple times, but i just made an excuse. "I'm tired," or "family night." Niall noticed my lies and comfronted me about them. "Hey, love. Have you been feeling okay lately?" He texted. I jumped at the sound of my phone buzzing, from all the threats. "Yeah, i'm fine." i lied, being the total opposite of fine. "Oh c'mon Stella Rose, even you know that's not true. What on your mind, love?" He replied, more suspicious than ever. 

I had to tell him. I needed to get this off my chest. "I've been getting these anonymous texts..." I cautiously responded. "Okay,  what else?" He asked. I took a deep breath. 

"They've been sending threats..." i let out. Niall quickly responded. "Whoever it is, is a dead man." "I don't exactly know who it is, but i've been so stressed about it." I told him. "It's okay, Stella Rose, just ignore them." He said. 

The texts contnued, day after day, week after week. They got worse. I gave in. I let the thoughts get to my head. I started rethinking suicide. The thoughts clouded my mind. I remembered the last time the blade slit my skin. I had enough. I scowered for my blade. I had to cut.

I'm such a weak person. I have no self-control. It stung at first, the blade against my fragile skin, but then i felt a sign of relief. It felt so good, so relaxing. I couldn't stop myself. I hated myself so much, i didn't think it was possible for anyone to ever love me. Who would love a girl wih scars?

Up and down my arms, blood dripped. I intened only my wrists to cut, but i ended up cutting all up my arms. I examine what i've done. I smile. The sight of blood flowing out my body, such a lovely sight. 

I wore long sleeves, to hid my scars. It was warm outside, but i wasn't taking the risk. I would get looks. "Why is she wearing a hoodie in summer?" I would hear them behind my back. I would keep my head down. I'd make sure my sleeves didn't accidentally roll up.

Maybe i should kill myself. No one would miss me. They would be dancing on my grave, probably. Niall, i bet, would just move on. He's a big celebrity, i'm just a nobody. They wouldn't notice ifi dissapear, would they? No. Couldn't love me if they tried. 

Niall was still worried about me. He had a feeling i wasn't telling him the whole truth. He got that right. I couldn't take the stress. I couldn't stand  lying to people i love. I used to be so innocent, so happy, when i was young. Now look at me. I've got scars on my wrists, and lies on my lips. 

Me and Niall went to the park, the same one we had our first kiss at. I wore Niall's neon green hoodie that he leant me. He smiled when he saw me wearing his hoodie, but his smile soon faded, knowing why i was wearing it. "Show me your scars, Stella Rose," he told me. I held my wrists tight. "Why?" I asked nervously. "I wanna know how many times you needed me and i wasn't there," a tear raced down his cheek.