Breakfast With Satan

Storm woke up to get ready for school. She turned off her alarm and laid in bed, thinking. Thinking about what her parents were going to say to her when she got downstairs for breakfast. Thinking about what kids on the bus were going to say to her. Thinking about what kids in school were going to say and do to her. Thinking about her friends that left her when they found out her secret. Thinking about the looks everyone will give her in the halls. Thinking about how much no one cares about her. Thinking about her boyfriend that broke up with her because he didn’t want to be with a “mental patient.” Thinking about everything that could go wrong.

She got up, groaning, and grabbed a towel and an outfit. She went into her bathroom and got the shower ready. She brushed her hair and looked in the mirror. Dark circles under her eyes, slightly puffy cheeks from crying herself to sleep at four in the morning, blue hair that was always brighter than her mood,  gauges in her ears that no one she knew liked. She sighed and took off her clothes. She looked into her full length body mirror. Fat she thought, even though she was 15 pounds under weight. She looked at her stomach, seeing the scars from the past covering her there. She looked at her legs, the scars from the past showing more than the ones on her stomach. She saw the marks on her legs from just the other day. She always kept the scars and marks hidden from everyone, even though they already knew.

She grabbed her razor and got in the shower, wincing slightly at the hot water hitting her cold, pale skin. She placed her razor in the corner of the tub and grabbed her shampoo. She put some on her hand and placed the bottle back down. She slowly and gently massaged the shampoo into her hair, trying to relax. She rinsed the shampoo out and put bodywash on the washcloth she put in the shower the night before. She started washing her arms, then her stomach, then her back. After she finished those areas, she place the washcloth down, grabbing her conditioner. She put some conditioner on her hand and placed the bottle back to where it was. She massaged the conditioner in her hair, being sure it got on all of her hair. Then, she picked back up the washcloth, put more bodywash on it, and started washing her legs, being careful of the marks. After she finished washing her legs and the rest of her body, she rinsed out the conditioner.

Then, she picked up the razor and shaved everywhere that was needed, not worrying about using shaving cream. While shaving her legs, she did it slow, being careful of the marks. She watched the razor as she shaved, thinking. Thinking about the same things as before. Thinking about if she did it again. Thinking about if she left more marks, just a bit worse than the others. Thinking about how her parents wouldn’t notice, or even care if they did notice. Thinking about how she’s asked for help before, but her parents just laughed and told her she couldn’t have help. Thinking about how even her parents tell her she is just seeking attention.

She finished shaving as her eyes began to tear up. She placed the razor down and just stared at the wall, the hot water still hitting her skin. She stood there for about ten minutes, just staring as her mind raced, this being a daily thing. Eventually, a couple tears slipped, then no more bothered to fall. She sighed and turned off the water, letting some of the water drip off her body. She grabbed the towel and wrapped it around her body, stepping out of the shower. She looked into the mirror again, seeing the same things that she hates about herself.

Storm went to one of the drawers under the sink and pulled out her favorite thing in the world, her best friend. Her blade. The thoughts are taking over her mind, making her unable to think of anything else. This was nearly a daily thing for her. It used to be less often, but once everyone left her, she couldn’t do anything else but think of the blade. Once her boyfriend found out about her cuts, he broke up with her and told her friends and his friends. He saw the cuts when she went swimming with him. He called her a psychopath and left her. After he told her friends and his friends, the entire school knew because no one could keep a secret like that in the school she went to.

She sat on the side of the tub and stared at the blade, slowly turning it in her hands. She heard her father yell at her to hurry up and call her a worthless waste of space. She looked at the blade a bit longer, debating whether to add a few more cuts or not. The thought of doing it took over her mind and she brought the blade to her skin. She slowly dragged it across her leg, a bit deeper than normal. She slowly breathed in, doing it again, watching the blood slip out of the cuts. She did one for each of her friends that left her, one for her exboyfriend, one for each of her parents, and one for every person who bullied her or even made a harsh comment her way.

She watched the blood ooze from each of the cuts, not caring that the blood was dripping onto the floor. After about two minutes of watching the blood, she got out the stuff she needed to clean and cover the cuts. She sat back on the side of the tub and wiped away the blood away from the cuts, then slowly cleaned them. Then, she covered them, being careful not to let any of the tape cover the cuts. She put away the supplies and cleaned the blood off of the white floor, being sure not to let it leave a stain. She put on her outfit and finished getting ready for school.

This near everyday thing that she did she liked to call “Breakfast With Satan.”

A/N: Tell me what you think? Heart it if you like it? Maybe? Whether you liked it or not, thank you for reading it.