Emotions

Madness

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING. THIS STORY IS VIOLENT, DISTURBING, AND NOT RECOMMENDED FOR ANYONE UNDER THE AGE OF THIRTEEN.

She lied alone on the dark wooden floors of her bedroom, as she stared up at the ragged gray ceiling. She wished her life away, as if it were possible to rid herself of the pain. But she couldn't and she fell back into the puddle of blood surrounding her, and into a cold and endless sleep.

_ _ _ _

As she slept, memories flew through her mind, taunting her already haunting dreams. The car crash, the yelling, the feeling of glass tearing harshly at her skin, causing it to burst open and blood to flow. She remembered the hitting, the smell of morphine and cigarettes, the endless nights and unbearable days. And most of all, she remembered his voice, clear and strong amongst her twisted memories repeating: "I will come. I will come."

_ _ _ _

She awoke that night, her body half destroyed by her own sheer will. She stood up, not bothering to cleanse herself because she saw no point. The stench of blood echoed heavily in the air, and she almost passed out from the smell. But she didn't have time to worry about that, and she stood up, to prepare for the midnight meeting with her long lost love.

_ _ _ _

He had died months ago, in a tragic car crash on the way to her house. The memories were so strong, too strong, that she slowly lost herself in a pretend reality, of ghosts, dreams and screamed words that had never been spoken. School was hell and her father beat her every night until he would pass out drunk as he usually did. Then the cutting began, slow harsh lines on her arms, eventually turning into wild jagged cracks in her skin, causing more blood to leave her body each night. It was a nightmare, until he first returned into her life. He was a ghost, only a figment of her shattered mind, yet she was too broken to realize it. She would speak to him each night, crying out about her silent suffering that she endured daily, until she could cry no more. He would float somewhere deep in her mind, his skin fading at the edges and his handsome face nodding and smiling, offering a listening ear to those who had no one. He had always been beautiful to her, with his forest green eyes, full playful lips, and hair the color of tar. He was her everything. And every morning, when the rays of the sunrise would peek through her cracked windows, he would disappear. And she was too broken to realize that he didn't exist in the first place.

_ _ _ _

And it was that very night, when her body was covered in her own blood, she waited for him. She waited and waited. Yet he never showed up. She waited even longer, but he never came. And it was at that moment, when she glanced around at her own blood in terror, did she realize that it was all a lie. A heavy feeling of despair settled onto her chest, and she screamed, the sound of a lost soul trapped in her own mind. Her high pitched wail echoed throughout her entire house, breaking the glass attic windows above, causing the night animals to flee in terror and sending her own mind into total madness. Yet her father still slept, the city still silent, ad if they had not heard her. And she cried, the endless tears mixing in with the dark red blood that now stained her skin. She cried and moaned until she could not handle herself any longer, and with one last wail, she picked up the fallen knife that laid on her bedroom floor, the very same knife that she had used on her arms, legs, and stomach. And with one last look around the empty room, she grabbed the knife tightly in her shaking fingers and slit her throat.