Warning: self-harm
unedited
Lotus Blood - Age 18
The police.
They were standing outside my door - two officers, one a thin woman, with her hair pulled back into a tight bun and the other, a man, with wide shoulders and a tall frame.
Breathe.
Slipping on Blaine's oversized grey hoodie, I let my brown hair out of its ponytail and pulled up the hood. My fingertips were the only thing that peeked out of the sleeves and I slowly opened the door whilst pretending to act unsurprised that they were here.
Don't let your mask slip.
I didn't know exactly why they were here but it was pretty easy to guess it had to do with a man that had come to pick up a painting that I wanted to keep. The police had made multiple trips to our neighborhood before on account of people who had gone missing around the area.
"Lotus Blood?" The woman smiled, I nodded and opened the door a bit more - managing to keep an uninterested look on my face as they looked at each other with concern before painting on a smile again. My hands were already shaking but the baggy hoodie sleeves hid them very well - thank goodness.
"How can I help you?"
"We just wanted to ask you a couple of questions about the neighborhood," the man said, he gestured to the inside of my house, "may we come in?" I shook my head. My eyes raked up and down both of them and I knew for a fact they weren't allowed in my house unless they had a warrant so I had every right to deny them entry. That didn't mean my hands weren't sweating, or I was completely calm in this situation - I was terrified.
Don't let your mask slip.
Breathe.
"You don't have a warrant, so you can ask your questions here," I said trying not to snarl in distaste, keeping a straight face, the woman nodded as she pulled out a clipboard and read from it. The questions were fairly normal, they ranged from, 'have you seen any suspicious activity around this area?' To questions like, 'do you feel safe in this neighborhood?'
"Are you mentally stable, Ms.Blood?"
Are you mentally stable, Ms.Blood?
Are you mentally stable, Ms.Blood?
Are you mentally stable?
Are you mentally stable anymore?
"Of course I am!" My feigned rage heightened, "what kind of question is that?" The officers looked at each other then uncertainly smiled before bidding me goodbye and walking back to their car - talking in hushed whispers.
Are you mentally stable, Ms.Blood?
Shaking, I closed the storm door and locked it behind me - that one question burning my mind, the flames licking at my feet. My back hit the door, and I slid to the floor my hands buried in my hair as tears started to push over the barrier of my lashes and race down the apples of my cheeks.
Are you mentally stable?
Are you mentally stable?
"No, no no no," I cried and thrashed against the door, "no-no. I'm fine! I'm okay I'm okay! I'm stable I promise I promise!" Shaking my head, I didn't get up from the floor - instead, I hunched over and threw up on the hardwood my stomach churning and my vision blurring as tears collected on the rims of my eyes. "Stable, I-I I'm stable - I'm okay, okay, okay, I'm okay! I'm mentally stable! What kind of fucking question is that?!" Trembling, my breaths came out in short pants and pulled my hands out of my hair to find dried blood crusting under my short fingernails, "I'm stable, I- I'm o-kay," I couldn't breathe, my chest was moving faster than a jackhammer yet my lungs weren't rewarded with oxygen - panic attack, I'm having a panic attack.
Breathe.
"I - can't I can't I-" I gasped for air, colored dots smearing across the ceiling as I laid there - gasping for air, my head filled with nothing but the need for oxygen. I'm going to die, surely I'm going to die I'm going die, I'm going die right here on this floor. I was floating, my body felt light and airy and I couldn't feel my fingers as I flexed them in front of my vision - the colored and black dots continued to blur my sight and I entered a state of bliss - I couldn't feel myself gasping for air anymore.
Blaine.
Blaine.
Think of Blaine.
Blaine with his coffee-bean eyes and ink-black hair, his dumb smile - breathe - and his pink lips and his pale - breathe - vampire skin and his long legs - breathe - and his - breathe, breathe breathe. And suddenly I was revived, taking deep breaths and hearing the harsh noises of my dry throat inhaling air sent more tears to the watery rims of my eyes.
You're fine.
You're fine.
Fine.
I got up from the floor on unsteady feet and treaded to the kitchen to grab some stuff to clean up my vomit that was sitting in a small pool on the floor in the foyer. Using some paper towels and Clorox wipes I cleaned up the contents of my stomach - tears drying on my face while more dripped off the bridge of my nose.
Once that was all said and done, I rose from my knees and threw out all the dirty towels before heading to the bathroom to wash my hands.
Fine.
My under eyes were puffy, so when I got to the bathroom and washed my hands I splashed some cold water on my face. Staring at myself in the mirror, I found hated my stupid brown eyes, my bland hair, my thin frame from a lack of food, and my pale skin from copious hours spent in the basement.
"Fuck you," I hissed to my reflection, she cackled in response and showed off razor-sharp teeth.
Razor.
Almost mindlessly I trudged upstairs and into my bathroom, the small razor glinted in the artificial light and I clutched the sharp tool in my hands - efficiently slicing up my palms as I recut fading lines on my wrists.
Drip.
"Eight-thousand and forty-seven."
Are you mentally stable?
Drip.
"Eight-thousand and forty-eight."
No.
Drip.
"Eight-thousand and forty-nine."
Never have been.
Drip.
"Eight-thousand and fifty."
Never will be.
YOU ARE READING
Finger Painting
Mistero / Thriller"I WORE THE SMELL OF BLOOD AND DEATH LIKE PERFUME" I may have been angry at my mother and brother - but I was angrier at myself. Angry for the person I knew I was becoming. Drip. "One thousand nine hundred eighty-four." I felt it and I knew I couldn...
