To heal a broken heart

Chapter 3

~Holly's POV~

After school is over I make my way to my car and drive home. On the way, while listening to my music, I think about the day so far. I didn't see Jayden today, but Juli told me he skips more and more these last few weeks. I just hope it doesn't affect his grades. I'm sure he doesn't really mean to harm himself in that way.

Arriving home, I call out to my parents, but as always they're still at work. Sighing, I retreat to my room and change into something comfortable: A sweater and some joggers. After that I think about making myself something to eat, but I know I shouldn't.

Why don't I just stop eating completely? It shouldn't affect me anyways with as much fat as I already have.

With this new goal in mind, I just start making my homework and doing some chores in the house only to lay down and read in the evening, ignoring the hunger rumbling through my empty stomach. Around 8 pm my parents burst through the front door, calling out to me that they're back.

"How did you do at school today?", my dad wants to know once I come down to greet them.

"We learned about Hamlet today and-"

"Anyways, I hope you did your homework. Oh and did you clean the bathrooms? You know the cleaning woman got ill", my dad interrupts me. I just nod.

"Honey, let's watch a movie, I need to relax for a bit", my mom comes out of the kitchen, a tray of food for them both in her hands. "Oh, Holly, I didn't know you were here so I didn't make you anything, tho you don't need it anyways when I think about it."

She gives me a once-over, obviously judging my choice of clothes again, then turns away and drags my father into the living room. I just stand there. Empty. Yet I feel hurt by their ignorance and hurtful words. Is it okay to treat their daughter like that?

But they're right, I'm fat and annoying. No wonder, they try to be away from me.

Silently making my way upstairs, I enter my personal bathroom. Yes, my parents are rich enough so I have my own one. It's attached to my room, just like my walking in closet.

Rummaging through a small cabinet, I finally get a hold of my blade. I once ordered a whole pack of razor blades over Amazon. They're surprisingly cheap and I wanted something really sharp after I discovered cutting helps when I accidentally hurt myself while shaving my legs one day. Unsurprisingly my parents never noticed. I hid the wounds well.

Sitting down, I already feel calmness flowing through me about feeling the cold blade in my hand. A small smile full of sadness makes its way onto my face. I set the blade against my arm, then I mercilessly tear it through my skin. A bloody trail opens up directly behind it, drawing a sickly beautiful line over older scars, some still trying to heal.

Another one because I'm ugly.

And another one because I'm a burden.

One more because I'm so annoying.

And a fifth because I don't deserve to breath.

By the time I finish all the pain in my chest turned numb and left me behind with a calm, empty feeling of nothingness. I smile at the absence of pain. That's my only moment of the day I feel free. Free to decide what happens to my body, free to decide what to show to my surroundings. I don't have to pull myself together, my parents won't come up anyways.

The relieved smile stays on my lips the whole time I'm bandaging my hurt left arm.

The next morning I wake up groaning, hitting my alarm multiple times till it finally shuts up. My arm still throbs, just like my ankle, the rest of my body is kinda okay. It hurts, but it's okay.