a/n:
hello everyone!!! I would just like to recognize all of the people that have began to vote and comment, and it instantly puts a smile on my face! I wasn't really confident about this story at first, and to be honest, I was thinking of deleting it. Thank you for keeping me from doing that! Please continue to vote and comment! Love you all!
- Liesl
*contains self inflicted pain*
"Melanie?" called a familiar voice. "Are you in there?"
"Go away," I whimpered, my lips trembling.
"Melanie, please. Tell me what happened."
"I said go, Joseph."
"Melanie," his voice hardened, stiff with persistance. "Come out here right now before I come in there myself."
"You just don't know when to stop, do you? I'm not going out there!" I heard a desperate sigh from the opposite side of the door.
"Can you at least tell me what happened? Let's go outside." I wanted to think that it wasn't persuastion enough. I didn't want to see Taylor or Patrick or anyone ever again. But being Joe's sister, I knew he wouldn't quit until I cooperated.
"Fine." I told Joe everything. The way Taylor had discretely treated me, the guilt, the painstaking battle commencing in my head. I didn't leave out anything, except for the comments on my cuts. Joe didn't know I cut at all. Sure, I had gone close to doing it as a teenager, but those days were over and the breaking point had long arrived.
"Well, I can tell for sure," Joe said, "this Taylor chick is one crazy bitch. And she definitely doesn't deserve Patrick. I don't know what he's doing with her in the first place. They go off and on all the time. And maybe you should see a therapist, Mel. I know nothing about what's going on in your head but I feel like it's worse now."
I lifted my head that had been concealed by my arms. "How long have they been dating?" I asked, completely dodging his suggestion.
"Since their last breakup? About 2 months, I'm pretty sure. Why do you ask?"
I looked away. "No reason. Anyway, thanks for talking to me. I feel a lot better now," I lied. I was nowhere close to feeling better. Inside I felt so awful that I just wanted to curl up into a ball and retreat into a sleep so deep, I could never wake up.
Joe helped me up from the curb we had stationed ourselves at, just outside the entrance of the bar. We could still hear the distant clink of drink glasses, the hum of lights, the laugh of the crowd.
"You wanna head back inside?" he asked, jabbing his thumb towards the door.
"No..." I shook my head, tugging the hem over my skirt down over my knees. "Could you take me home? You can come back here after. I wouldn't want you to miss out on all the fun."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure." The drive back home was brief yet silent. I held the tears in the back of my throat, and told myself I would be okay, though I knew I was kidding myself. You're a failure. You should just give up. The demons buried in my head screamed with red hot fire, making it increasingly difficult to keep my eyes dry. As soon as Joe dropped me off at home, I grabbed my purse and scurried to the front door, scavenging the porch for the spare key, retrieving it from under the carpet. You're worthless.
My shoes flew off, my purse dropped to the floor, and I lost control of all emotions I had kept bottled up inside of me. The negative voices grew louder, my willpower shrinking to nothing. You should just kill yourself. No one will miss you.
Maybe I should kill myself, I thought. Nobody needs me. Nobody will miss me. The Earth will still turn. The sun will still rise every morning. The seasons will still change. So why not?
The voices were reaching an insurmountable level, so loud that I couldn't hear my thoughts anymore. Soon, everything was lost, and my only friends were demons inside my head. I had to silence this beast. I told myself no, no, no-
but there was no other option. Without hesitation, I retrieved my only blade from my suitcase, stepping into the bathroom as I stared my tear-stricken face in the mirror. What's happening to me?
I squeezed my eyes shut, took a deep breath, wincing as the cold blade sliced horizontally through my skin, hot blood seeping down my arm, dropping ever so gently into the sink. It hurt awfully, but I could no longer resist the temptation or the satisfaction of feeling the blade enter my skin. The blood cascaded down my forearm, like rain trickling from a gutter. I could only take so much, however. The pain began to build up, and I resorted to sobbing, tossing the bloody silver blade into the sink with a loud clink.
I fell to my knees, beholding the mess I had become, hot, wet blood coating my palms, staining my perfectly white blouse. I stripped down to nothing, stepping into the shower as I turned the water on with trembling hands. I couldn't feel tears anymore, as they became indistinguishable through the hot water raining down on my body. The blood washed from my hands and arms, surging around my feet and circling the drain until it disappeared. It stung terribly. That was always the worst part. It always hit right before the crippling guilt.
"I'm a mess," I whispered to myself, slowly sinking down to the floor, hugging my bare knees to my chest. "I'm a mess. I'm a mess. I'm a mess."
And it was true. A mess that was never going to get what she wanted.
