Six Shades of Love - A Slytherin Boys story

chapter 8: blood

it happened again.

I let it happen again.

the pain of the blade on my wrists still seethed even 15 minutes after I washed my knife off.

the blood dripped down my arm as I felt my pulse pound against my skin.

today was just horrible in general. I started thinking about my mother again. the last time she came home drunk.

how she beat me.

the way she hit me with her beer bottle and cussed at me.

"est-ce que tu aimes ça, putain ? aimes-tu être frappé par ta mère pendant que tu pleures ? putain de fils de pute." it was odd being cussed out in french. especially since my mother barely spoke to me in french. me and her tried to create a bond.

I knew english very well and better than her. and so we tried to bond together by learning english. but of course. she always had to throw it down the fucking garbage everytime she came home drunk.

The sound of shattering glass filled the air as the bottle struck me. the bottle thrown by my own mother in a fit of rage. Shock and pain engulfed me as I crumpled to the ground, the shards biting into my skin. I'm sure this time it broke something.

"fucking whore." she spat on me and walked out again. I was 15. I didn't really understand why she did that. it was only a bad grade.

it was only a bad grade.

maybe I deserve it. she was right, I need to do better.

I layed there, covered in blood and bruises. I stumbled to my feet. trying to rub my eyes open and avoid the obvious dizziness pounding in my head.

it's my fault.

I was fucking 15. 15 and she made me feel that way. like it was my fault. like it was my fault and I deserved it.

that night was the first night I started cutting myself. I thought maybe it would hurt less if my mother wasn't the one doing it.

I thought maybe it would hurt less if my mother wasn't the one doing it.

I thought maybe it would hurt less if my mother wasn't the one doing it.

I sucked the remaining blood off my wrists and tucked them under my hoodie.

this was the only hoodie I allowed myself to wear when I felt like this. since I knew it would probably be stained with blood around the stomach and cuffs.

I knew I probably should feel some sort of regret or even sadness.

but like I said. my mother made me feel like I deserved it.

and maybe I didn't believe her.

but in some sense. I felt like she won, everytime I let that blade cut through my skin once again.

I can't even remember the last time I wore short sleeves except for monday night.

I wore that short dress. it looked so nice. the only reason I allowed myself to wear it was because I had been clean for 3 and 1/2 weeks. I thought the scars weren't noticeable and I was fine.

obviously I was wrong.

I think i've taken like 4 showers in the past 24 hours.

trying to drown out my feelings and tears. along with the blood that still remained on my body.

it was wednesday, tomorrow I had detention with theo and tom.

great.

at least for theo. we liked eachother. or at least I think that's what we thought of eachother.