Warning: mentions of self-harm, suicidal thoughts
remember when i said id finish before November... yeah that's not happening but hopefully before December, there's not that many chapters left (less that four) so i promise ill get this book done before December
unedited
Lotus Blood - Age 19
I knew this feeling all too well. Waking up the next night after one of my frequent episodes, with either blood stains coating my arms, or gauze that was half-soaked and not wrapped in a professional way by any means.
Shower.
Silently, I stumbled to my feet and limped up the stairs with my forearms pressed close to my chest - as if to shield them from anything that could jump out at me. But nothing would. Grabbing a towel when I entered the master bathroom, I stripped out of my bloody shirt and sweatpants and stared at my disgusting body.
My hair was matted and messy, my body was thin and looked malnourished and uncared for, I could see the small circles of the cigarette burns still poking their way through my pale skin, and I looked like I was about to collapse.
Looking away from the mirror, I slowly unraveled the gauze that stuck to my wounds, choking on a sob I tried to not think about how much I had hurt myself last night. It was so horrible to stare at those wounds and not want to do it all over again - this was my fault. I hurt myself this way. I can't blame it on Nathan or mom, or Christian, I have to blame it on myself because I did this.
I did this.
"I hate you," I swiveled around and hissed at my reflection, cradling my arms to my chest and glaring at my smug face. I fucking hated her.
I hate myself.
Shaking my head, I turned on the shower and put it on the warm setting - warm showers were becoming something I was taking more often. I found they helped me the morning after I had done something to myself and they soothed the raw flesh that I had most likely cut the night before.
Useless.
I don't know why I was still trying. Blaine had most likely found a better candidate for a girlfriend at college - someone who didn't have hallucinations of her dead brother. Blaine wouldn't have to babysit her because she wouldn't cut herself in the bathroom with a razor at parties, and he wouldn't have to wait so long to have sex with her.
He would save himself the hassle of breaking down walls that were never meant to be broken, and the hassle of making sure she didn't embarrass him. He wouldn't have to worry if she was okay alone because she would be mentally stable.
And worst of all he wouldn't be dating a murderer. He wouldn't be loving the person who murdered his sister. He wouldn't be dating the person who killed their own family.
He wouldn't be dating a monster.
Tears escaped my eyes and I submerged myself under the water so they mixed with the warm shower. My head was blank, I felt clear-headed while I drowned myself, yet when I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my body I felt all the emotions slam into me all at once like a freight train.
I hate myself.
Thunder rumbled outside and I quickly dried myself off enough to get in some old clothes that I wouldn't mind getting wet or muddy. Before I left the bathroom and floated down to the backyard I made sure to rewrap my arms to avoid the raindrops polluted with smoke and other debris touching my cuts.
Grabbing an umbrella and a towel, I shoved the handle into the damp and loosened mud as I laid down a towel and curled up under the umbrella that shielded me from the cold rain. Drops of rain occasionally hit my bare ankles and I held my arms to my chest protectively as I rid my mind of everything.
Drip.
"Eight-thousand, seven hundred, and twenty-three."
Drip.
"Eight-thousand, seven hundred, and twenty-four."
Drip.
"Eight-thousand, seven hundred, and twenty-five."
Drip.
My eyes started to close and I murmured the numbers without any idea of how hard the rain was coming down or how wet I was getting because of it. My body was numb to the chilling wind and rain, so I let my body succumb to the sleep as my heart rate slowed - the tension in my muscles dissipating to the soft patter of rain against my umbrella.
My eyes only seemed to be closed for a moment before I was shaken awake by a stranger who I immediately recognized as Ms.McBride.
"Lotus!" She stared at me and I sat like a deer in headlights as she stared at my bandaged arms that were fully in view. The pity in her eyes was apparent and I tried to ignore it as she delicately asked me to get up and come with her - I complied and we walked to her house.
"Thank you Ms.McBride," I accepted the towel she offered me for my damp hair and the blanket to wrap around my body. I was wearing some of Blaine's older clothes because I refused to wear anything April wore.
Guilt.
"Are you okay, Lotus?"
No.
"I-I'm not completely okay," the lie left a bad taste in my mouth, "I'm trying to be better, but last night I just had a bad episode and I just couldn't-" I choked "-handle it, so I just just, did t-this." I was expecting a stern talking to and for her to make me promise to never hurt myself again. Instead, I was engulfed in a bear hug from Blaine's mother.
"Honey, I'm so sorry," she pulled back and kissed my forehead, "if you ever just want to come over and chat I'm here for you okay?" Nodding, I accepted the mug of warm milk and we digressed from the original topic of my arms and mental state to other things like Ms.McBride's dating life and my paintings.
Hours flew by and the second time I yawned Blaine's mother frowned. "I'm," I yawned, "fine, Ms.McBride, I'm not that tired." I wasn't fooling her. That much was obvious, so I reluctantly followed her to Blaine's bedroom and she hugged me again before ushering me into his bed and telling me that she'd be in the other room if I needed anything.
I don't deserve this.
I don't deserve any of this.
I deserve to be dead.
I fucking deserve to be dead.
-
YOU ARE READING
Finger Painting
Mystery / 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...
