Set Me Free

Chapter 2

A/N:

N: I will be the first to say this chapter is not the most interesting one...

Ezra Wesley’s POV:

(The Girl Scratching The Mirror)

I closed my eyes and listened to the door slamming in the distance. I stayed silent; remaining still in my place at the counter. The counter feeling like ice underneath my fingertips, slowly I open my eyes, despite how heavy they felt, how much they’d just loved to stay closed. Forever closed.

I shot out of my seat, grabbing my bag from off the counter and running up the curved mahogany staircase to my room.

You shouldn’t eat that you know. You don’t want to get fat.

Like your father’s cousins in England, remember them.

They’re all fat and do you know how many of them are happy.

Not one.

Because no one will love them.

The words ring in my ear, I mean they wouldn’t bother me so much if she didn’t say it so often. It wouldn’t bother me so much if I hadn’t been so chubby in middle school. I tossed my bag on my bed and slammed my hands down on my bathroom counter, slowly looking up to meet eyes with a sight that truly disgusted me. My own reflection.

I looked like my mom. Everyone told me I did, and I hate it. I hated the idea of being the face of your own agony. Why would I want to look like the last thing I’d ever want to turn into. Tossing open each drawer, I searched. I swear I had a scissor or something in one of these drawers. The emotions had been building up, filling me from toe to head, just waiting for me to explode. Yet I never would, I wouldn’t let my mother have the satisfaction.

Did I truly want to do what I was about to do?

Damage myself to hurt the one I despised.

I didn’t really have anything sharp in my drawers other than a nail clipper. I clutched it, hiking up my sleeves and staring down at my wrist with a frown. I’d never do this, the sensible girl I was wouldn’t allow me to do this. The girl who got only straight A’s, the girl who never faulted. The girl whose father beamed at the thought that at least one daughter wanted to do something that he thought was “productive”, at least one would be a successful lawyer.I shakily bring the clipper lower and lower.

“Hey Ezzie,” My fraternal twin sister Syrius came into the room without knocking, as usual. I let the clipper fall into the sink, spinning around with a smile.

“Need anything?” I asked sarcastically.

“Nothing I was just gonna ask if you knew where mom went?” She sighed.

“To the supermarket.” The words came out dry, angry, I just wanted her to leave. She raised her hands in defeat, stepping back and out the door, closing it as she left.

I turned back to the counter, body trembling, I gripped the nail clip firmly. I pulled it across my wrist. Nothing happened. I hissed, moving it much faster across my wrist. It hurt, I promise it did, but no bloodshed, no cut appeared on my fragile skin.

I threw the nail clip back into the sick, muttering a soft curse. I can’t believe I even considered doing that, let alone tried. I’m glad nothing happened. It was stupid, foolish. I’m glad I never did find that pair of scissors.

I shuffled over to my bed, grabbing my bag and pulling out my calculus textbook, grinning softly to myself. I can’t believe all that happened because my mom wouldn’t let me buy circus cookies. Of course that led to her ranting about me becoming fat. I hated how just because I looked like her she wanted me to be like her.