"Amelia"

Chapter 7: Nightmares Are Dreams Too

"Where have you been?" Kirsten shouted above Nicole's crying.

"I--I had to return something." Amelia explained vaguely.

Kirsten was standing heavily above Nicole who was cowering beneath the table, which seemed to be the only thing holding Kirsten up. Amelia saw a few empty bottles and walked slowly towards her mother. Nicole lifted her eyes from the ground and stared in awe at her sister. Amelia inched closer to Kirsten. Once she was an arms length away, Amelia reached out her hand and said calmly,

"It's gonna be okay."

Kirsten fell forward into Amelia's arms with tears streaming down her cheeks. Kirsten continued to sob apologies while Amelia helped her into bed. Worn out from crying and drinking, Kirsten fell asleep immediately after her head hit the pillow. Amelia gently closed her mother's bedroom door and walked faster back to Nicole. When she got to the kitchen, Nicole was bent over the sink and washing her face.

"Nicole? You okay?" Amelia asked quietly.

"I'm fine." Nicole snapped.

"Do you need me to--" Amelia started before Nicole snapped again.

"No. I don't need you. You are too busy with whoever to care about me! Go away. Die. I honestly don't care."

Amelia felt something rise in her throat and she fought back the tears as she walked to her room.

As she entered, the cold of the floor sank into her. Amelia felt herself falling deeper into the grey world around her. She was numbing out the world. Too distracted by her need to control this feeling, Amelia forgot her promises and reached for the razor. She grabbed it from its hiding place and felt it cool against her flushed skin. She pressed a little harder and felt the blood seep from her. It was warm and alive. She was alive. Her breathing slowed and the tears stopped. After the damage was done and Amelia was cleaning up the mess she had made, her phone went off.

She reached over with her clean hand and checked her messages. The first one was from Levi:

Hey, i'm sorry. Grandma fell down while at the grocery store and she may have messed up her hip, so I have to stay overnight at the hospital with her. I'm sorry I missed our first date. I'll make it up to you, i promise.

Amelia smiled and texted back,

It's fine. Some stuff came up with me too. We can always do this again, if that's okay.

She then opened the second message. It was from Emmy.

Hey. I just wanted to make sure that you made it home okay. If you're interested, I was wondering if you could watch Ezra on Thursday night from about 6:00 to 9:00-ish.

Amelia felt a lump rise in her throat. Why did this feel wrong? She rubbed her newly opened wrist and felt a tear well up in her eye. She felt ashamed. She couldn't understand why, but unlike before, her addiction felt wrong. Healing-- no, cutting, felt wrong. Amelia quickly found a clean wrap and covered her wrist before gathering the courage to reply to Emmy.

I got home just fine, thank you. And I think I can watch Ezra then, I just have to check  and see what my mom is doing.

Amelia quickly sat down her phone and grabbed clothes for a shower. Slightly disappointed by the fact that she hadn't been texted back, Amelia left her phone in the room and climbed into the shower. The water was warm and felt soothing on her tense muscles. Amelia could feel the tears wanting to leave her, but she refused to give in. She tilted her head and swallowed some of the water before breathing heavily out. The air was thick and warm in the small bathroom, and Amelia could feel herself panicking. She could feel herself freaking out over everything that had happened. She could feel herself losing control.

She quickly turned off the water and threw on her clothes; barely allowing herself time to dry. She went as quickly as possible to her room and left the lights off. It was cold in her room and her head was freezing because it was wet. She crawled into bed and held the covers over her head. Her breathing became shallow and she felt the cramps begin in her clenched feet. Amelia wanted to cry out in pain, but she couldn't.

As the panic continued, Amelia began to try and focus to help with he pain. "If you can't use your five senses to find it, then it isn't real." her mom always used to say when she had panic attacks or when she was scared of the monsters under her bed. Before her dad left, Kirsten was calm and comforting. Amelia felt the panic wash away when she began to think about life before; before her dad left, before her mom began to drink, before she had to worry.

Amelia felt her eyelids grow heavier with each passing moment. She breathed in long and full before letting go and drifting off into her dreams.

•••

Amelia was sitting in the bathtub. Her left arm hanging gently over and blood dripping onto an old white towel. The water was warm and filthy. Soapy bubbles gathered around the bottom of her calves, and the water from her lifted knees was nearly dried. The razor was sitting on it's throne just above Amelia. Blood formed into droplets and stretched across before the blade began to dry.

Let me see you cut.

A voice whispered. It was Arizona's voice. The night Amelia revealed her addiction. It was Arizona's attempt to make her stop.

Amelia rose gently from the tub and felt the cold air bombard her wet skin. Her feet touched the broken tile as she walked and stood before the mirror. A white towel wrapped around her and the razor in her hand, Amelia looked intensely into her own eyes. They seemed to be taunting her, pushing her to drive the blade.

Amelia felt her lips rise to form a smirk as she gave in and allowed the blade to dance across her skin. The small space of her wrist just didn't seem enough to prove her control. Amelia raised the blade to her collar bone and ran it across the shadow; Crimson following silver and gliding down her body. It was rhythmic and soothing. Amelia could feel the skin burning against the air. After she was done, covered in thickening lines of deep red, Amelia looked back into the mirror.

Her knees felt weak, but she remained frozen. Tears rolled down her cheeks like rain off a house. Her mouth twisted into a painful shape and her breathing became harsh and shallow. Her throat swelled and she wheezed trying make out the words. As much as she tried, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the mirror. Her thick black hair, replaced with choppy blonde. Her dark blue eyes, now softer and brighter, still held all the pain. The gashes across her body began to tear farther, but it wasn't her body. She dropped to her knees and screamed in pain.

The mirror followed and shattered into a thousand broken pieces, but Amelia could still see the damage. She could see what she had done. She picked up a shard and looked into the eyes meant to be hers, but instead they were of someone new. She held the shard tighter until blood ran thickly down her arm. She opened her hand and stared into the reflection, though covered in blood, Amelia knew what she had done.

She threw the piece as hard as she could against the broken tile. It touched the ground gently before spinning off towards the door. Not that she had realized, but there was a blue glow coming from under the door. Amelia drug herself to the door and reached for the knob; leaving bloody handprints across the wooden frame. She leaned tightly against the door and grabbed ahold of the knob before she heard the gunshot. No-- before she felt the gunshot.

Amelia turned around and stared into the remaining glass and saw someone. This person had tears sticking to her face and blonde hair falling forward from her ears. The reflection reached to pull the hair back and caused the blood to stain her golden strands. The reflect was not hers, but one of someone else. She wasn't cutting herself. She was cutting...

•••

"Emmy!"