The Wounds He Mended

Let The Show Begin

The blood ran down my wrist as tears rolled down my face.  It hurt, but yet, I was still sitting here, alone, cutting again.  I had no one to turn to and things were getting worse.

It was getting close to summer time and I was the only one in my circle of friends wearing long sleeves.  I’d passed out so many times in choir from wearing long sleeves or a sweat shirt.  I always wanted to wear short sleeves or tank tops, but I never could, because I knew people would ask or report me to the counselors.  I needed help; I knew that much, but there wasn’t anyone I trusted enough to tell.

I slit the blade through my wrist many more times before wiping it off with a towel.  I dried up the blood and hid the towel in my room like I always did after I finished.  My mom would send me to a hospital if she found out, so I made sure there was no evidence left of the harm I had conflicted upon myself.

“Are you ready to go?” my mom called from the living room.

“Just a second!” I yelled back.  This was one thing I was looking forward to.  I was finally getting to see my favorite band: Pentatonix.  Not only was I getting to see them perform live and in concert, but I was going to meet my idols.

“Well, hurry up!” she called.

I wanted away from my home so badly, but I never ran, because I knew that if someone found me, they would take me back.  Now that I was 18, I could legally leave and never come back.  I took a rather large purse with me and filled it with things I thought I’d need once I ran away.  The concert was a 2 hour drive away from my city, so I knew I would have time to run.  My mom had booked a hotel room for me, so she wouldn’t have to pick me up after the concert.  Little did she know, I canceled the reservations and reserved a room at a hotel 30 minutes outside of town.

I checked to make sure I had everything I wanted.  I had my wallet full of the money I had taken out of my savings account.  I didn’t want my debit card to be tracked, so I took all of my money out of my account for the trip.  I had an extra shirt I had bout, but was too afraid to wear, because the sleeves were short.  I had a pair of shorts, but they didn’t cover the scars and burn marks on my legs.  If anything, they made them more noticeable.  And last, but not least, I had everything I currently used to harm myself; which included: a lighter, a razor, a blade, and a tack.  I used them all differently and I didn’t plan to stop using them because I ran away.

Self-harm had become my escape.

I walked to the door of my room and took one last look around.  I had cleaned everything, so everything was in place and in perfect condition.  I turned around and walked out the door.

“I’m ready,” I said.  I slung my hipster style bag over my head and steadied it across my shoulder.

“Is that what you’re going to wear?” she asked, putting an emphasis on the word ‘that.’

I looked down at what I was wearing.  I had on shorts that covered enough of my legs to hide the scars and my Pentatonix hoodie.

“Well, yeah,” I replied.  “Why?”

“I just thought since you are going to meet them, you’d at least try and look like a girl for once,” she said and laughed it off like it was nothing.  But to me, it meant everything.

“Can we just go?” I asked, growing impatient and my longing to cut growing stronger.

“If you want,” she said.

We got in the car and I sat in the back seat.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit up front?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I began, “I’m fine back here.”

I put my headphones on over my ears and listened to the music on my iPod Nano for the entire two hours.  When we arrived, I got out of the car and began to close the door.

“*Eh Hem*” my mom said, pretending like she was clearing her throat.  “Don’t you have something to say to me?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said, attempting to muster up enough courage to yell back, but it just wouldn’t happen.  “Bye, love you,” I lied slamming the car door as hard as I could.  My mom looked at me in disgust through the window.  I shrugged my shoulders and mouthed the word ‘sorry.’  She rolled her eyes and drove away.  I laughed to myself at my success in making my mom mad before I left for good.

I turned around and faced the opera house that Pentatonix was to perform at.

“I finally made it,” I said under my breath.L

I walked inside and took a seat in the VIP Pit, eagerly waiting for the show to begin.