The stories in my flesh (Sequel to scars)

Part 10

Sydney's point of view;

I wake up with a great headache. When I'm done brushing my teeth and getting dressed I grab the paper clip from under my mattress. It's been two days and the scratches on the back of my neck keep getting worse. Why? Because I keep doing it to stop myself from cutting.

But today I can't.

Today's suppose to be a happy day. Today I'm suppose to be feeling wonderful. Today I'm suppose to be spending the day doing fun stuff. Because today is my eighteenth birthday. And I'm stuck here in this horrible place. I feel suffocated, I feel dead in this big white room of mine.

I close my eyes and pull up my dress this time the paper clip goes to my hips just above my old scars. Why is it so hard to like myself? Why is it so hard for me to feel fine? I wish I could escape myself. I feel so horrible. Maybe I deserve all this. Maybe I'm just tired of living. My life is miserable right now. So that's why I'm sitting here in this big white room of mine, cutting myself without any reason or motive, all I know is that I have to in order to feel a little good about myself.

~
Since it's my birthday, Doctor. Smith thought it'll be a good idea if my parents came for a quick visit. Honestly, I don't want to see them. They're the ones that put me in this horrific place.

I walk to the room where my parents are sitting. As soon as I walk in my mom runs to me and hugs me, she has tears in her eyes and dad is behind her smiling. I don't hug her back. "Oh, Sydney! We've missed you even though it's only been a week." She says wiping her tears. Dad hugs me when she lets go. "Happy birthday sweetheart." He kisses my cheek and then let's go.

After we sit down I see that they brought me a small cake. "It's your favorite." She says handing me the chocolate cake. When I don't take it she puts it back on the table. "Sydney, I know you're mad but this is for your own good." My dad says rubbing my moms back, she seems hurt that I didn't take the cake.

"Honey," my mom begins. I stare at her. "Don't be mad, please." And for a second I want to hug her, and cry in her shoulder, and tell her how much I need her. But I don't. I can't forgive her for what she did to me. No. No. I can't. I can't forgive them for tearing me apart from Anthony, I can't forgive them for putting me in this place!

"You're not being fair with your mother and I." dad says. I'm not being fair with them? Is he serious? "We are doing this to help you," I start to bite the inside of my cheek. "Don't push us away," I keep bitting.

"Sydney!" My dads voice starts to sound like a scream. My mom puts her hand over his trying to calm him down. "Listen to me, and don't ignore me!" He stands up, I look up to him but don't say a word. My mother starts to cry and dad puts his arm around her.

"Laura, shh Laura honey it's okay." Mom starts to sob louder, my dad lets go of her and points his finger at me. "This is all your fault! Look what you did to your mother! Look what you did to our lives! You've ruined them! If you would stop being so selfish and stop trying to crave attention by cutting yourself everything would be so much better! Life would be better!" As soon as he's done screaming at me his anger seems to disappear.

I press my cuts on my hips and feel a little pain. But nothing compared to the pain I'm feeling in my heart. It affects me when other people say stuff like that to me, but my own father? No, I can't take that pain. My knees feel like jelly and I want to just fall to the floor and sob. They're suppose to be supporting me why aren't they? They're suppose to encourage me not being me down. Anthony would never say anything like that to me. Never. Yet, I never thought my own father would say something like that.

"Sydney, honey I didn't mean-" my dad is interrupted by Dr. Smith. "Is everything okay?" My dad looks at me and my mom is sniffling. I slowly get up and I have to blink and breath really fast to stop myself from crying. "I'm so sorr-"

"I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment to everybody. Mom I'm sorry, but this world is just not my place." I walk away, my father is apologizing and my mom is asking what I meant. I ignore them and walk past Dr. Smith who gives me a worried look.

When I get to my room, I lay in my bed. I start to breath heavily and I feel the warm tears spill from my eyes. They don't stop. It's one after another. There's this pain in my chest that won't go away, and I feel like I'm slowly dying. My head hurts, my heart hurts, my soul hurts. Everything hurts.

I thought I could handle this but I can't.