You Can't Save Me..

Chapter 12

Ashton's POV

Recap:
"Tell me everything. Take your time."

"O-okay. If I'm g-going to do th-this," I swallow, trying to compose myself, "You h-have to promise n-not to interrupt or question a-anything. J-just let me t-talk. I have t-to say it all a-at once or I won't say it at a-all." I finally got my sentence out with a shaky voice, looking at Luke for confirmation.

"Baby, it's okay. Tell me everything. I'm not going to judge. I'm not going to interrupt. You don't need to be nervous. Just tell me everything."

I nod, composing myself, ready to start my story.

-

"It started in 3rd grade. I stopped caring. I stopped feeling. Nothing mattered. But for some reason, I knew no one could know. I knew not to tell anyone.

So I kept it a secret. I stopped caring about anything I did, but in order to keep it a secret, I kept going through the actions of everyday life, but I didn't feel it. I didn't care.

I also stopped sleeping. I was lucky to get 2 hours of sleep a night and even when I did sleep, I didn't feel it. It felt like my body slept, but my mind didn't.

I would wake up and still feel exhausted, so I would try to sleep again, but my body would scream no. So I would try to get up and my mind would scream no. It was a battle with my own thoughts and I didn't know what to do. I still don't.

That went on for some time before I reached 4th grade. I started cutting myself. I remember the first time I did it.

I went downstairs and got a disposable razor. I brought it upstairs and tore it apart. I broke the blades out and threw the rest of it away.

I stared at them for long minutes before setting 3 of them down on my bedside table and holding the other 1 in my hand. "

I swallowed.

"I rolled up my pant leg so my thigh was exposed. I placed the blade down on my skin and dragged the corner from my knee to my panty line once.

It was like releasing a breath I had been holding in. For the first time in a year or more, I felt something. Even if it wasn't a good feeling, it was a feeling. And I knew I deserved the pain as well.

What kind of person can't feel? Yunno. I was a freak. I still am.

But I remember cutting my leg up and down, side to side, 24 times. Then I told myself 1 more and 24 turned to 47. Then I said 1 more. I ended with 97 cuts.

My entire thigh, knee to panty line was covered in blood. And I smiled at the sight. I smiled..

Then I took out a pink nail care case I had and hid the blades in there. Then I put them in my pillow and went to sleep.

And I remember sleeping. For real. I actually slept. And it woke up feeling the sleep. Then I felt the stinging on my leg. And I loved it. I loved it so so much. So night after night, I did it again and again and again.

It only got worse and worse. Cutting started not being enough. Around 7th grade I started burning and bruising myself as well.

And the cuts got deeper, but nothing stopped the voices anymore. Nothing could make me sleep.

In 8th grade, I began starving myself. I skipped meals and when I did eat, I would force it up my throat again.

I felt fat and disgusting. I still do.

In 9th grade I started getting these thoughts.

Thoughts about the end.

I would see myself step in front of a train, and smile.