Mood:
sharpAlone in the corner the girl steadily rocked her injured arm back and forth as the pain disappeared with her tears. The cold steel blade lay next to her with the few precious drops of her innocent red life barely cascading down the jagged bruised edges. Confused and oddly satisfied with what she had done to herself she slowly stood, still cradling her injured arm like a newborn baby. She wiped away the precious drops of life from the jagged edge of her year old friend and placed it back in its cradle on the counter. Her hands slowly starting to shake as she turned the bloody brass knob and cool crisp water rushed over her torn red arm. She slowly pat it dry with a wooly white cloth. With the water still running and her salty checks burning from the tears she splashed some on her face as she heard a car pull up the drive. Peering out the window she saw her Mom closing the driver’s door. Quickly with her heart pounding almost as fast as her arm she ran to her room and grabbed a large red sweatshirt to cover her secret. She knew they wouldn’t understand the comfort it gave her. She knew they would take it away from her, and if she didn’t have it she didn’t know how she would survive.
Months with the jagged crutch left her arm scarred and forever hidden. A small price to pay for the relief it gave her to feel the tiny driblets of rusty red blood slip from the wound taking her pain with them. Her day hadn’t gone well she bombed the test she studied so hard for and her friends were mad at her for turning down a pool party later in the week. They knew something was wrong but they never could have guessed what. Her grades where down because she spent more time worrying about her family. Her Mother was deathly ill and her father wanted nothing to do with her. She felt alone and scared. She felt pressured to be better than her brothers and that she needed to take care of everyone else’s problems while still dealing with her own.
Only in her room did she find solace. With a small steel blade she began to slowly draw the jagged edge across her skin hoping to find relief. When she heard footsteps approaching, she slipped and the cool blade quickly filled with a gush of sticky red liquid from her arm. Panicked that someone would discover her secret she tried to stop the flow of blood but without success she fell to the blood, soaked carpet screaming her mother’s name. Her mother never expected to find the sight she found.
Hours later the girl was in the suicide wing at the hospital with IVs dripping their clear drops down a tube that ran into her restrained wrist, exposing her torn and forever tattered arm, where for almost a year she found sanctuary.
Today she still has her tattered arm to remind her of what she had done. Finding relief in self-injury, what the doctors called her disease, she tries to find trust in her friends and family but they come to be no help. At first they all shared the same pain and fear that she did. Then as time grew their reality’s struck and they left her fighting the same battle. She knows if they catch her and her secret friend they will explode on her. All she wants to do is pick up that jagged edge. Even just for a minute to help her find solace once again. Oh, but if they find out, if they see the marks it will be her fault. Not theirs. Again another thing she doesn’t understand. How can they leave her with all the pain and fear she had and expect her to deal with them alone? It seemed easier when they were all willing to be there and help when she needed it. Now they don’t seem as available. They seem more distant than before. And they took the only thing that had ever helped her away. How can she survive this life with all the pain and fear? How can she do it? Why would she want to? Great, now they put that thought in her head. Death. Definitely one friend she sure doesn’t want.
If only they had left her alone. Let her keep freeing her pain. Then maybe ending it wouldn’t be on her mind as much. She never wanted to die when she cut but now? It seems like the only possibility. If it ever comes to that. No one sees her the way they used to. Not strong and surely not someone that could help them. They would feel bad for putting their problems on her. Maybe that’s what she needs. Now more than ever. Something, everything to put her mind off of her mind.
The colors in the darkened sky tease her. They know nothing of life. All they do is stay there and give comfort to all people who are lost. They guide them back to the people who love them. Yet, no comfort comes her way. No guide back to those people. All she sees when she looks at them is jealousy. The sky and the stars and the moon know their place in this world. They know what their job is and they do it so well. They can guide a lost sailor or hiker home to people who love them. They can provide that small shiver of light to a lost child in the woods. But for her they seem to stop and watch. Like with her they don’t know what to do. So, all night they watch her cry alone in the corner. Sometimes when they can no longer watch the sorrow she brings to the sky with her eyes they let go of their pain and rain down embracing her with their tears.
People sometimes wonder why she cries alone at night, she wonders too. Why is she alone in the dark? Why can’t she cry during the day with the light from the sun burning down on her? She knows, the sun is like her friends and family, they don’t know her. Not like the moon and stars and that sky. The sun always smiles sometimes in the summer that sun smiles right through the rain and laughs great big laughs. Laughs that go right through her like she never existed. The sun doesn’t always smile for her sometimes he skips right over her. But the moon and the stars and that dark sky. They could never skip her. Sometimes they come to shine just for her. They shine on her while she cries as if they were holding her.
Alone now more than ever she looks at the darkness that surrounds her and she sees what her life has become. She reflects quietly by herself then just as she left she enters their world and once again the cycle starts with a forever never end.
She pulled out her tool box with a calm precision, slowly lifting the lid exposing her accessories. Everything organized in its own place. She didn’t need preparation; she didn’t need to gain courage. She was a pro at this. Rolling her sleeve her breaths were relaxed and controlled. The tension running through her body she knew would soon be set free. Carefully choosing the blade she rhythmically drew it down her skin breaking free the emotions held in for weeks. The noise from downstairs bellowed into her mind. As she replaced the blade and her kit she set the noise aside. Loading the stereo with her selected choice the thoughts raced inside of her.
As she pulled herself back together and regained all composure she made her way to the bathroom. Now the next step was to clean and cover. With the same precision and expertise she turned the cold water on and soaked the cloth she grabbed from its shelf. As the water swirled down the drain she stared herself in the eyes. She knew she had to hide this; she had been down this road before. The coolness of the cloth erased the heat from her arm. Twisting the vanity’s chair towards her she gracefully eased herself down. Selecting the gauze always seemed to take the longest.
With her new façade she walked passed them on the couch aimed for the door. Announcing her exit she left. Pulling at her sore arm fearing herself she let go of her composure and the tears streamed down as the speedometer graced pass 70.
It’s been weeks since her last “episode” the cuts are barely visible…except that is to her. She has given slight hints of what’s going on beneath her surface but as of yet no one has caught on, maybe for the best…maybe not. Everyday she has woken up and truly wondered why. Scratching her arm as she sits on the side of the bed she stares off into nowhere. Hearing the bathroom door shut realizing she’s not alone she snaps back, throwing on a shirt she heads downstairs.
The rain thrashing down some how comforts her. For years now she’s had an intimate relationship with the night sky. It’s when she feels most comfortable, most safe in her own hands. The stars and the moon throw their arms around her when she needs them the most. The rain comes with darkness it helps to hide her sadness, her resentment. She stands in the hallway watching the street fill with rain. Nothing seems to faze her now. She’s got her walls back up where they belong.
Looking back on the past few months she saw this coming. At night as she drove around she would find herself tempting all limits. Sometimes she would close her eyes for brief moments, each time just a little bit longer. She would find it so difficult to keep herself on the road. She wouldn’t think because it didn’t matter if she did. After she cuts its not so hard to stay on the road…ha in more ways than one.
She’s not sure people fully understand what exactly self-injury is about. Maybe if they could understand it just a little bit she wouldn’t have to hide it so much. When she cuts she can breathe…she can stay on the road. She can deal with almost anything the world chooses to throw at her. She just doesn’t understand what’s so wrong about that? About something that keeps you alive and sane. Well, as sane as anyone could possibly be in this fucked up world. The thing is she knows what she’s doing. She knows how far to go…how deep to dig. The question that really remains…is does everyone else know how far to go…how far to push her before she snaps again?
