Accounts of Mental Health

Self Harm and Verbal Abuse - Fae's Short Story

My hands are shaking. I can't breathe. I can't think.

"Answer me!" He shouts. But I can't. I can't move. Tears fill my eyes, stinging drops falling down my face. I gasp for air, but my lungs fail yet again. He moves closer, and my body tenses, throat constricting further. Don't come closer don't come closer don't come closer please. My mind is screaming, but my physical body remains silent and still. I long for my blade. Long for the familiar feeling of cool metal contrasting against my hot skin. Long for the crimson liquid to flow down my wrists and thighs. But of course, that's what got me here in the first place. The raised lines running up my limbs, the razors stolen and hidden. I've tried and tried again, but i always end up in the same spot: a sobbing mess, surrounded by a puddle of blood and tears.