Never Alone || Carchelle

Carla

I shut the door to my room and fall to my knees, sobs wracking my body. Why didn't she tell me before?  I wish I had known. I wish she had told me before today...  I shuffle over to my bed and curl up under the covers and sleep takes over my exhausted body. I wake up and it's dark, I flick on the light and my eyes fall on my wardrobe, it's open. I frown and close the door before heading into the kitchen. I pour myself a large glass of milk and sip it thoughtfully. I hear the front door slam "Chelle? Is that you?" I call but my voice echoes back at me. "Chelle?" I call again, but she doesn't reply. I walk towards the door and find it's closed "Cheeeeeelllle?" I bellow, laughing as I search the flat. "Seriously Chelle" I giggle as I enter my room again "Where are you?". A hand grabs my wrist as I go to the wardrobe again and pulls me sharply backwards, I stumble and turn around. And my heart stops. "Frank?" I stammer, looking at my ex fiance, a bloody wound on his head with a bloodied bottle protruding from it. He stares at me, lurches for my throat and pins me to the floor. I feel his hands on me, going lower and lower, pulling at my clothes. I scream out for Chelle but she never comes "Stop please stop" I plead with Frank, as I hear a zipper being pulled down. I brace myself and cry out as I feel him force his way into me. I try to squirm backwards, smashing into the bed and I scream and yell for help but nobody comes. I finally hear my bedroom door open and a shadow falls over me, I look up and through my pained tears I see Michelle standing above me, her eyes full of tears, blood pooling at her feet and a dead child in her arms. She looks at me, tears streaming down her pale cheeks "You killed him" she chokes out and I shake my head "Chelle... please help... Make him stop.. please" I cry, as Frank forces my scratching hands down to the floor. He's getting rougher and rougher "Chelle please!" I plea as my friend sits besides me, she leans down and whispers "You deserve this" as I sit bolt upright in bed, cold sweat dripping down my back and tears wet on my face and pillow. I can hardly breathe and I'm terrified of my own shadow. I scramble out of bed and into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I strip and head into the shower, trying to wash the feeling of disgust washing over me, away. I look down and my normally flat stomach is ever so slightly more protruded than it was last week. It's tiny, to anyone else it'd look like I was bloated but to me, I know that it's my child growing a tiny bit bigger, a little bit stronger. My heart still feels like it's about to beat out of my chest and I stroke the mix of old and new scars littering my arms, trying to fight the urge to cut again. I knew after Frank had left that night, that I should't have slashed my arms again. It had been 15 years since I'd done it previously but I needed to feel alive and in control again. Since then, every panic attack, ,PTSD flashback or  memory of him  made me feel out of control and scared. Seeing blood calmed me the first time and I know I shouldn't do it but it's like an addiction... Before I can comprehend what's going on, there's blood spattering on the tiles and the blade slips from my wet fingers, blood dripping off it and from the new, deep and badly bleeding series of cuts on my wrist...

A gasp falls from my lips, as I watch the crimson blood hitting the crisp white tiles and I force myself out of the shower. Blood is running down my arm now, pooling in my palm, before it threads itself through my fingers on its final journey to the floor. I fish in the cabinet for the medical box and wince. I clean the 5 new cuts and bandage them up, blood seeps through the bandage staining sections of it a strange shade of pink. I start as I hear a bang on the door "Carla?" I hear Chelle call softly through the door "Are you ok?". I gulp "I'm fine" I say, trying to hide the tremble in my voice as I start to clean the floor and shower. Chelle bangs on the door again and as I flush the evidence of my self harm down the loo and shove my clothes back on, I fling the door open and brush past Chelle. "Carla?" I hear her ask as I stumble, trying to stop the world from spinning around me. I lean on the back of the sofa, breathing deeply, eyes closed, hands trembling, legs weak as they buckle under my weight. I start seeing stars and know then I must have cut deeper than I first thought, for as the world starts to spin again, I hear Chelle call my name frantically and as I feel the blood slipping down my arm, I pass out, the world fading to a peaceful shade of purple black....