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CHAPTER ONE. confessions of a dead girl walking
( tw! contains mentions of self harm and suicide )
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IN RETROSPECT, Marina Diaz had no intention of surviving when she dug the serrated edge of that agonising blade into her soft, olive skin. She had hoped that when she closed her eyes, she would never be forced to open them to the ugly and cruel world around her again. She wanted to fall into darkness with no hope of escaping because at least she would finally be at peace. Instead she had hoped that when she opened her eyes, she would be walking along a soft white cloud, about to enter the golden gilded gates of heaven. So knew peace among the clouds was a pipe dream and she would be foolish to think it was actually real. But who could blame the Diaz girl for dreaming of a better afterlife than the sorry excuse of a life she had been given by society.
However, a new haven in the clouds was still beyond her reach, because when Marina opened her eyes again, she was lying in a hospital bed, bandages wrapped around her wrists, surrounded by nothing more than pale blue walls and hospital equipment. Followed by her return to the land of the living was the soft cries of her mother, which made the Diaz girl feel awful. It hadn't even been a year since Miguel was in the hospital and she was forced to watch another one of her children suffer. The woman begged Marina, wanting to know what had made her daughter want to take her own life to begin with. Marina never gave her mother an answer, scared of what she would think. Maybe a part of her didn't want to get her brother in trouble for her own disastrous actions, and another part of her was worried that if she did tell her mom the truth, she would try and defend Miguel's cruel words that drove her to suicide. He was the golden child in the family after all.
So Marina would bite down on her tongue and just shrug her shoulders, not having the strength in her to tell the truth about how cruel her brother had been. Days then passed and Marina was finally on the mend. She had spoken to a councillor during her time as a patient in the hospital. But nothing was ever really shared between them since Marina preferred to keep it all bottled up, which she had been told was a problem for someone like her, someone who could easily harm herself instead of opening up to others. Marina had become even more fragile than before. She was like a porcelain doll, one mistake, and she would fall apart, shattering into a million tiny pieces until there was nothing. But Marina knew she was already broken. She just wished everyone else would accept it.
