Never Again

chapter 2

Chapter 2

Blood is a very interesting thing. It flows rapidly and then quickly spills onto the floor in a long, drippy motion. The color stains your skin and becomes sticky till it dries. It tastes strongly of iron and copper, like a penny. The saltiness leaves a weird feeling on your tongue. It's warm, red and even though gory, you can't seem to look away.

I looked down at the newly fresh cut on my wrist. The blood dripped slowly onto the bathroom counter. My pocket knife was stained red. I took a tissue and wiped away the remnants. I then took it and flushed it down the toilet. I had to wipe away the evidence that it was ever there otherwise my mom would find out and I then really would be suicidal.

This is the part where most people would just laugh and say that they're meaning it metaphorical but for me that's not the case. I really would become suicidal. I probably couldn't bring myself to put a gun to my head but I could probably bleed out at night. Its rash but when you have the constant inquiry of parents asking you what, how and why something happens you have to be careful not to let things spill. I couldn't live with myself knowing that I caused everyone I loved that pain even when it wasn't their fault that I hurt myself.

It's not that I'm super deceitful and that I don't like my parents, because I do, but when they find out that something not so good has been happening they freak out and go all overprotective. It's happened before and I certainly don't want it to happen to me. That's why I hide myself from them. That's why I hide myself from everyone. No one can know the truth about me because they just won't understand. They'll judge, criticize, pity, baby, overprotect and pretty much anything else you can think of. That's why I bandage my cuts.

I wrap them up until they stop bleeding. Then after the scab manages to heal I'm left with a big reddish, pinkish line that never goes away. Have my scars faded before? Sure a few, the little ones mostly, but very few. They won't let my body heal. They tell me to cut harder and harder to represent all the cuts to my heart that have been made. Those monsters throbbing in my head and swimming in my soul don't completely control me though. I made my choice as well to cut deeper and deeper, but they influence that choice. But when I'm not feeling strong, they are and they can control everything I do, making it worse for me. I'm okay with it though. I've learned to live with it. The pain is there but I don't recognize it. It's just a strange slip across my skin and nothing more.

I've learned how to hide though, to keep people from doing all those things, to keep my monsters from taking completely over. It keeps me safe and protected from the burdens and guilt I'd have to bear if people knew the real me. So I push all the things I love on the outside and use them to cloak me in happiness. There is pure happiness that I do occasionally feel but not for very long. The sadness just envelopes my insides and there's no escape. Not like I need one though. I'm not popular or mean or anything really. I'm isolated in this tiny little place with a few really close friends who I love dearly but I am never truly happy. There are just more sad things in my life than happy things. Most people can usually block out the sad things but I lost that ability a long time ago. And I probably will not be getting it back anytime soon.

. . .

My thoughts were interrupted by my mom calling my name.

"Elsie! Willows here!" she called from downstairs.

"Okay!" I called back.

I looked back down at my fresh cut. The bleeding had subsided but still pooled a bit at the seam. I took one of my cloth bandages and wrapped it around my wrist. Then I pulled down my sweater sleeve and made sure it didn't bulge out.

I looked in the mirror and took a deep breath. I was wearing a cream colored sweater with a maroon knit scarf, a knee length black skater skirt, black sheer tights and ankle boots. I had put my hair up into a messy bun and just had a little bit of eyeliner on with the rest of my makeup. I looked pretty good... except for my slight double chin. Man, I hated that thing. It was so gross. It really only showed completely when I was bending my head down but it still made my neck look a lot bigger than it should've been.

But this was as good as I was going to get.

I ran down the stairs and put my lunch into my bag. Before I could get out the door my mom stopped me.

"You look great sweetie," she said giving me a hug.

I rolled my eyes as I embraced her.

"Mom, you always say that even when I'm wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt." I said.

"Well I mean every word. Now have a good day at school."

I waved her goodbye as I walked out to meet Willow's car parked at the front of my house.

"Well you look all cute as always." She cheered as I climbed in.

I rolled my eyes again. "Thanks," I said sarcastically.

"Listen Elsie, no matter how many times you roll your eyes at people when they tell you, you look good it doesn't change the fact that they're not lying."

"Oh really, and what if they're not? They're just trying to be nice?" I challenged.

"I don't know? They don't make eye contact?" she guessed. "I can't deduce people!"

I laughed. Willow always knew how to make me laugh, even though deep down I felt guilty for never being able to truly feel that happiness. It made me feel even more upset that those stupid little monsters wouldn't let the real me have just a little bit of joy. When I wanted to it just made them mad. And when they were mad they weren't very nice to me.

We pulled into a parking space at Riverwood High School.

"Wow, a clear parking space!" Willow exclaimed. "You don't get that opportunity that often."

I nodded in agreement but then a searing feeling urged in my arm. I winced in pain and gasped.

"Elsie... what's wrong?"

I looked over at Willow. She had a frightened look on her face. I took a deep breath.

"Uh, nothing. I'm fine. I'm fine." I reassured.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yeah, let's just get inside. It's really cold."

As soon as we got inside I told Willow that I'd meet her at her locker and then sprinted to the bathroom.