Where the ocean meets the edge of the world ch1

Saffron doesn't know how she's supposed to cope with all the thing that are going on in her life, so she begins doing and thinking things she never thought she would.

 The water was thundering down on me, like a great roaring waterfall that crashed down over the edge of the world. Like rain over huge, ancient trees. Like a beautiful ode to nature.

Only the showerhead wasn’t nature, and neither was the bath. But it was easy to kid myself that it was, because what I was doing was natural. My wrist, my blood, my decision, all born from mother nature. I looked down at the running water beneath my crossed legs and watched as it swirled  endlessly around the drainpipe. I blinked, and the water became a dull, washed out red. I blinked again and it was bright crimson, flowing all around me. I lifted my hands out of the water �" they were red, too. I scrambled out of the bathtub to the sink and washed my hands over and over but the colour didn’t fade. The blood wouldn’t come off. I clawed at my hands desperately, a stream of incoherent words tumbling out of my mouth.

“Get off, get off, get off”  I muttered to myself again and again, as if it would help. My breathing got faster, heavier as I struggled to rid my hands of the blood. Everything was building up, clocks were ticking. I could feel my nails piercing my skin a million times. The rumbling of the shower was accompanied by heavy drumming �" deep and steady, yet frantic and high pitched. It sped up and got louder until it was the only thing in my head. It dominated everything.

And then it all stopped. There was a gentle rap on the door.

“Saffy, are you in there?” It was my sister, Lois.

“Um, yeah, just a minute...” I trailed off, and I heard Lois walk away. Then I thought about what had just happened. I looked at my gaunt reflection in the mirror �" my normally grey eyes were a bright, piercing blue and completely bloodshot. My skin was grey and shadowed. My gaze wondered down to my hands �" they were pink and raw, with several red spots where I’d dug into them with my nails. Not covered in crimson, of course. I walked slowly over to the bath, no longer expecting trails of blood to be cascading along the tub. I was right; it was only water. I extended a shaky hand and shut off the shower. When my hand came out of contact with the metal, I saw that I had left red marks on it. I lifted my hands out in front of me, then proceeded to examine my left wrist. There were several thin, bright slashes across it.

“S**t.” Unsteadily, I fetched a cloth from underneath the sink and mopped up the knob.  Before rushing out of the bathroom I listened out for footsteps on the landing. Once I reached the safety zone I tore off my sodden clothes, donned some comfy pyjamas, shut the light out and threw myself onto my bed. I shut my eyes, hoping to get out of the battle zone that was my mind but I found myself going back to the bathroom and the cuts on my wrist. I shivered and pulled the duvet tighter around me. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I couldn’t stop thinking it. I was crazy. Crazy crazy crazy. Not good crazy, bad crazy. The kind where you wind up in a mental home. S**t.