1-15-2015

Part 2

A/N- This part will contain self-harm, and purging, so just, if you can't handle this type of stuff, or if it's a major trigger for you, then DON'T read any further. Sorry for anything that you're gong through.

Lately, I've been trying to distract myself from well, to tell the truth, the blades that are always within a few feet of the bathtub, easy access to blades, and to the skin that is asking for them. Just so you know, I have'nt ever actually purposely cut myself,but i've cut myself a few times on accident, and now, I crave it. It becomes overpowering.

The thoughts suddenly are coming back, this time, stronger then ever, and I cant block them out. I get up, walking quietly to the bathroom. I open the bottom shelf, and grab the razor. Unsure how to get the blades out, I just dropped it and stomped hard on it. The blades all fell out, and I grabbed them. I took them back to my bedroom, and put them on my bedside table, leaving one in my hand. grip it tightly in my left hand, raising my right pant leg. The voices were getting louder, reminding me of every time dad had beat me, cursed at me, called me fat, and other things. But then another voice, my brother's voice, became present. It was quieter, and easy to ignore. (A/N- This next part is going to be confusing, but the bold print, is the bad voice, and the italics is her brother's, and if you see both, then it's probably just an authors note, and if you see just regular prit, then it's her actions or thoughts, and will probably not be in quotations, but may be.) "Just do it, your dad hated you. He had a right to." "But I love you." "No he doesn't" "Don't listen to that bastard",

The voices became to much, so I finally layed the blade to my skin, feeling adrenaline rush through my veins, and the loudest voice quieted down, and the quieter voice got louder, but not loud enough. I layed the sharp object to my pale skin again, still fascinated by the crimson blood that rushed out of the cut. "Don't you feel better?" "Of course you don't, or at least you wont in a few more cuts." Both voices were about the same in volume after a few more cuts, and my brother's voice seemed close.

I looked up from my bleeding leg, just to see my brother, Paul, sitting in the chair on the other side of the room with his head in his hands. "Paul, I um, what are you doing in my room?", I asked, my voice just a whisper. "I came in here to ask you what you want for dinner, because Aunt Bell wasn't going to be here for dinner, and told asked me if I could get something. I knocked on your door, and you didn't answer, so I guessed you were asleep, so I came in to wake you up. When I saw you sitting with the blade pressed to your skin, I tried to get you to hear me, but you wouldn't listen. I've been sitting here for about an hour, but you never noticed. What made you do it?", the question made me flinch, saying as he didn't know about how abusive dad was to me, he was only that way to me, and never let Paul or mom see him do it. "You wouldn't understand", I mumbled under my breath. "Tell me. I'm sure I'll be able to handle it. I mean, it cant be any worse than what I just had to watch.", he replied, so I just started to tell him every little detail.

After I got done, the look on his face was one of pure, and utter disgust. "So dad beat you, and you're just now telling me? How long have you been doing this?", he asked. "Tonight's the first time, just, please, the blade's my friend, dont flush him.", I didnt even realize what I said until after I had let the words slip gracefully through my lips, and after I noticed it, I also noticed that the words were'nt mine. "Daley, dont say that, 'he's' not your 'friend'. This blade is something thta you will use for years and years, and finally, just like you gave into this urge, you'll give into the urge to go deeper, and deeper, until one day, you cut to deep, or you hit a vein, and you bleed out. I dont want to walk in on you dead on the floor, or passed out in the bathroom. I love you, and dont understand why you would not tell me that our dad was abusive to you. So, tell me Daley, why didnt you tell me that he did that to you?", he said, and I didnt have an answer for him. "I-I- He told me not to, and said that if I tod and he found out, that he'd beat me more forcefully, and I couldnt have him do that.", was my reply, and it was 1/2 true.