Six

I went outside into the warm air. It was 4 am on a Saturday morning. HONK. My mother’s horn sounded at me. I got into the car and my mother wouldn’t even look at me.

            “I’m sorry, Mom.”

She said nothing, just put the car into reverse, and drove home. We got back home in about 30 minutes and I got out of the car and ran inside.

I got into my room and just threw myself on the bed. My body ached all over and I still had the urge to vomit. I grabbed my phone and my first reaction was to call Ami, but I knew that that would have been a poor decision.

            I grabbed my laptop and did something I hadn’t done in years, write.

Warm spring night,

full of so much fright

not having any strength I thought that I might.

The same girl, just a toy for show,

laying there time went by so slow

and my recovery turned into a plateau.

I don’t want to be afraid

but friendship exists within the blade.

Now, I’m left cold and dismayed.

Sleep forever, but do not die.

Hide your tears and never cry

and one day, just one day you’ll finally fly.

            I hear my mom slam the bathroom door and head up the stairs. I stopped writing and shut my laptop. What was I supposed to do? I was stuck in a house with no one that cared to comfort me. I grabbed my headphones from my bedside table, stuck them into my phone, and pressed shuffle. My favorite song, Cut came on.

I broke down and began to sob into my pillow. I knew there had to be something wrong with me. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I felt so alone and afraid. It wasn’t like I wanted to die, I just wanted to make the pain subside.

I stood up and examined the face in the vanity mirror where I would do my makeup. My hair was a mess. My face flushed other than for red cheeks. There were tears building up in their eyes. Reality hit, that reflection was me. I needed to make this pain end. I crept my way to the downstairs bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet, and just stared at all the contents it held. There were my mother sleeping pills, my dad’s high blood pressure medications,  some store brand pain reliever, and a straight edge razor blade. I wasn’t in the right mindset, I was in a fog. I grabbed the razor and snuck back to my room. I didn’t want to die, I just wanted to make sure I was still alive. I took the old fashion straight edge blade and opened it revealing a sharp, shiny edge. The blade was cold in between my fingers. I turned up my left wrist and with the razor in my other hand, I pressed down. I didn’t slide the blade, just pressed it to my pale skin. Do I really want to do this?

I am not alone, I am not alone

Author's Note

This has not been looked over, what do you think needs the most work? How about the length? Is it too short?