tw: self harm. support for self harm can be found at selfinjury.com you are not alone.
Alex settled the kittens down on the heat pad that was rested on her bed. She took the time to consider the look of her room. The shell of the space was different to her old, 'modern' built house. But, she thought to herself as she took residence on the bed beside the two sleeping kittens, she liked the old, warn out feel of this house more than the all glass windows of their old home.
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Alex pulled her phone from her pocket. Three days. It had been three days since she had spoken to her old friends. She decided it was time to crack the ice that had frozen over their relationship and text one of them. Jamie Hilsham was the nicest, so Alex decided to text her first.
a. harmon
hey jamie. been a while. hows the broken wrist.
jamie hilsham
fuck off bitch. don't text this number. you're obviously not a real friend if you cant even say goodbye properly. you're lucky i don't tell everyone about dimshall hill, les.
a. harmon
tell anyone about me and ginny and i will kill you. understand?
With tears in her eyes and her hands beginning to shake, Alex left her phone on her bed whilst she stormed to the bathroom.
Leaning over the sink as her bottom lip trembled, Alex found herself reaching for the razor blades. When the cold metal pressed against her fingertips, the count of seven days clean from her phone flashed before her eyes. 'A week,' she had promised herself, 'just stay clean for one week.' She clenched her teeth together. A week had passed, she didn't owe it to anyone to stay clean any longer. She took the blade in her shaking hands before pressing it into her skin, watching as the blood began to trickle down her arm and into the sink. Wash it away, cut, repeat. Alex left three marks on her arm before dropping the metal with a clink.
"Put it down, or at least do it vertically if you're trying to kill yourself," someone chided from the doorway. Alex turned her head to be met with Tate's messy blonde hair. She dropped the blade into the sink. "Good," Tate mumbled quietly, "next time you try and cut yourself, I'll kill you."
Alex's eyes panned to the ground. Was that caring? She couldn't tell. But, before she could ask, Tate was gone, the door closed behind him. "What the hell?" she whispered to herself, tucking the now-washed blade into her jeans pocket to hide later on. "This place is fuckin' weird."
