Short Romance Stories

Bathroom Therapy

        DISCLAIMER: THIS STORY HAS ABUSE AND SELF HARM!!! SKIP TO NEXT CHAPTER!!!    

        Lila huddled on the cold bathroom floor, the echoes of her mother's cruel words ringing in her ears. 'Useless. Worthless. You'll never amount to anything.' She clutched the razor blade, its sharp edge cutting into the soft skin of her palm. It was a familiar pain, a comfort in its starkness. The pain of the blade was real, tangible, unlike the pain of her family's constant barbs. It was a pain she could control, a pain that promised escape.

Her phone buzzed, the insistent vibration a jarring interruption to the vortex of her despair. It was Peter. 'Hey, you okay?' his voice, hesitant but sweet, cut through her fog. 'We were supposed to meet at the library, remember?'

Lila's throat constricted. She couldn't tell him, not about the razor, not about the black hole of despair that had swallowed her whole. 'Yeah, sorry... I'm just...' She couldn't finish the sentence. Words stuck in her throat, thick and heavy.

'What's wrong?' Peter pressed, his voice laced with concern. 'Is everything okay?'

'I'll be there soon,' she mumbled, her voice barely audible. She hung up, the silence in the bathroom pressing against her like a shroud.

The razor glinted in the dim light, beckoning her closer. Her fingers trembled, a fragile shield against the insistent pull towards the edge. She closed her eyes, focusing on the rhythmic thumping of her heart, a frantic drumbeat in her chest.

A crash at the door startled her. 'Lila! Are you in there?' It was Peter.

Panic flared, a hot, searing sensation in her chest. She quickly shoved the razor away, its cold metal a ghost against her skin. 'Yeah, just a minute,' she said, her voice shaky.

The bathroom door burst open, revealing Peter, his face a mask of worry. 'What happened? You scared me," he said, his voice tight. He rushed to her, his eyes wide and worried. He noticed the blood on her hand, his concern deepening. "What happened to your hand?'

Lila recoiled, her eyes wide and panicked. "It's nothing," she said, her voice catching. 'Just a clumsy accident.'

Peter reached out, his hand hesitant. 'Let me see,' he insisted gently. She hesitated for a moment, his sincerity piercing through her walls. She yielded, offering him her hand.

He examined it, his brow furrowed in concern. 'Are you okay?' he asked, his voice soft. Lila's eyes welled up, tears threatening to spill over.

'I'm just a mess,' she whispered, unable to hold back the dam of her emotions. "I can't even get things right. I'm a disappointment...' Her voice trembled, her words spilling out like a floodgate.

Peter sat down beside her, his eyes full of understanding. He didn't try to fix it, didn't offer platitudes or solutions. He just sat quietly, his hand gently resting on hers.

'You're not a disappointment,' he said, his voice steady and calming. "You're Lila, and you're amazing. You just need people who see that."

He saw the pain in her eyes, the exhaustion in her posture, and a fierce protectiveness welled up inside him. He knew her family was unkind, that they didn't understand the complexities of her soul. He knew because he was different too, because he struggled with his own demons. He spoke in a quiet voice, his words measured and slow.

'It doesn't matter what anyone else says about you, Lila. What matters is how you see yourself. And I see you, and I see your strength, your kindness, your sense of humor.'

He launched into a story, a fantastical tale of a princess who was lost in a dark forest, surrounded by shadows and doubt. With each word, he painted a picture of resilience, of unwavering hope, of the courage to find one's own light in the darkest of places. He didn't call it therapy, but it was.

Lila listened, entranced by his words, her tears drying on her cheeks. His voice, a steady beacon in her storm, brought her a flicker of warmth, a spark of hope that refused to be extinguished. He spoke of the princess's journey, her battles, her triumphs, culminating in a moment of self-discovery, where she realized her own worth.

By the time he was done, the bathroom was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. Lila felt lighter, the weight of her despair lifted, replaced by a fragile sense of hope.

She looked at Peter, his face lit by the warm light, his eyes reflecting her own renewed sense of hope. He offered her a small, shy smile.

'Thank you,' Lila whispered, her voice hoarse but with a new strength.

'I'm just glad you're okay,' Peter replied, his smile widening.

From that day forward, Lila knew she wouldn't be alone. She had Peter, and that was enough. He was her anchor, her confidant, and her guiding light in the darkest of times. And though the shadows of her family's words still loomed, they no longer held the power to consume her, because she had found her own strength, her own light, in the love of a boy who not only saw her, but believed in her.

---------------------------------------------------

If you read this story and thought what must the author be going through to write something like this? I am going through a lot dear reader. And writing these stories helps me cope with all the mental abuse I get from my family. I don't do self-harm although the thought has crossed my mind. I write the stories to help me see that I am not alone. MY characters feel it too and I can relate to them. I can feel their pain and together we can walk through the hard times. Thank you for caring dear reader. I'll try to write a happier story next.

Love, 

FOXZGIRL