The Self-Harmed

~See you when you're better~

Music softly played in the background. It felt liked all of the air in the room had been sucked dry. Nothing left and I couldn't breathe.  No matter how shallow I tried to breathe, I felt like I was gasping. A fish that had gotten to far on land. I sat on my floor crouched behind the side of my head.

When we had first moved in my window bench didn't open. But give me some tools and a few days, and it was now a working storage case. I crawled over and lifted the lid for my plastic container which held all sorts of my goodies. The metallic smell of dried blood was the first thing that hit me as I popped off the top of my plastic box. 

Looking at my room you might think I was happy. The walls were covered in posters and pictures and my bed was made up in my favorite shade of green. Even the window bench were I kept all of my secrets was decorated with colorful. pillows.

And as far as anyone could tell I was smiling and walking and talking. They never saw. They mustn't ever see. Everyone had to be blindfolded, and if that blindfold started to lift, then I would be there to adjust it back over their eyes. I pulled out what I needed for my little procedure, and neatly rolled back my sleeve.

 I really should stop using theses blood stained razors. But they were my favorite. They had memories on them and I couldn't find anymore like them. Continuing with the task at hand, I used the corner of my shirt to get rid of the rust colored  flakes the best I could. Then to double check I did it again. 

I could never look at down when I did these types of things. So as I pressed the blade to the fold of my arm I looked up at my roof. And smiled a little bit at the little girl who put all of those little glow in the dark starts that she had put up with her Dad. But that was over seven years now.

So now I pressed the blade in the fold of my arm making my first cut. The pain and sting was instant. I felt like I could breathe a little. Then the next cut allowed me to get a lung full of air.

So I set down my blade and grabbed a clean rag putting a bit of peroxide on it before dabbing it on my arm. Then here was a slight knock on the door making me jump. My box fell off my lap onto the floor its contented making noise along the way.

"Shit." I muttered quickly gathering my things.

"Honey?" My Mom knocked again, "Is everything okay in there?"

"Yeah I'm fine." I tossed things into the box, "I just dropped my art box.

"I can help?" The door knob turned.

"I got it!" I narrowed my eyes at the door seeing it was locked, "It's just paint spilled."

"Okay, well, your Father and I need to talk to you about something over dinner."

"I'll be down in a second."

"Are you sure I can't help you with anything?"

"Just go Mom."

"Okay then, Hurry."

I stopped the bleeding and then ran down stairs. My house was a pretty decent size. And my parents were always telling me how I had no idea of what they had to go through to get were they are today. My Dad was already siting at the table. The grey was starting to blend with his black hair. He was going to need a shave soon.

I know he just got of work, but he wasn't in his usual suit. Instead he over plaid pajama bottoms and a dark blue t-shirt. Mom had on a dress and apron as she set the table. Her blond hair went a little below her shoulders and was curled and blown out. Her nails had bee done recently, and I looked over at Dad wondering if he had noticed how pretty she looked today.

"No work Dad?"

"I left early." Dad said, as I sat down. " So what is this business about you stabbing someone at school with a pencil?"

"I didn't stab him." I corrected him, "I threw the pencil at him and it just some how stuck to the kids arm."

"You've done this before." Mom said. "You get upset and then you through a fit."

"Well people shouldn't upset me."

"That's what we're here to talk about." Dad defused our angry tones.

"There's this school, that deals with kids who have." Mom paused looking for the word. " a different out look on life."

"Don't lie to her." Dad said, taking a roll from the bowl in the middle of the table. "It's a school for people Who have problems."

"Stop." Mom smacked him. "You live in a dorm room with another girl, and you have someone to help you work out your problems. Anger, self harm, anything you have, you go here."

"Just think about it." Dad said, as I opened my mouth.

"It's a good idea honestly." Mom looked down, as I reached for my drink, "What is that!"

I looked down and quickly pulled my sleeve down, "It's nothing."

"I have the school's number on speed dial." Dad got up.

"Pack your clothes, you'll be going." Mom said, following after Dad.

"Don't worry." She stopped at the door. "We'll see you when you're better."

I sighed and sat back in my chair as I watched her go. Great, so Either way I'm going to have to be stuck going to this school. How could they just drop me off like I'm a problem that they no longer want to deal with?