"You never told me you're called The DICK," she said out of the blue.
He groaned. "It's just a stupid nickname."
"How did you get it?" Great curiosity appeared on her face, and he hated it because this was something he'd much rather erase in his pas...
sensitive topics and scenes in this chapter. please read with caution.
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Trudy didn't want to go back to that dark circle, she knew if she relapsed then there was no escape for her sanity this time around.
But when the poor - ridiculously pretty! - maid cleaned up the last cookie crumbles and wiped the chocolate off the luxurious, shiny tiles and left Trudy all alone in her misery, Trudy had nothing else to do. She was still in her hideous yellow dress that fit her awkwardly, kneeling on the ground as her face was ducked in something she had been vulnerable around far too many times - her diamond embellished toilet - and attempting to throw up. Trudy gagged numerous times, but nothing came up other than painful air.
She spit out her excess saliva and groaned, taming down the twists of her stomach. For a second there, Trudy regretted passing the opportunity of food but she would never call that maid again because she needed to make a statement for herself, whatever that was.
Deciding that puking wouldn't help her this time, Trudy closed her fancy toilet and sat on it, her devastated, brown eyes scanning her spacious bathroom for an alternative. Whatever wave of intense emotions and self-hatred was too strong for Trudy and she needed to cope with it fast in order not to be shattered and thrown to the shore like a dead corpse. Her eyes landed on her favorite pair of titanium rasors - perfect! They would be fast, clean, and relieving.
Trudy didn't want any of this, but her memories were too real and raw to contain. She could feel his filthy hands as they slipped their way under the skirt of her Prich Middle School uniform. His face was a blurred mess, but she could clearly see the drops of sweat rolling their way down his forehead. She was about to push him away from her when his face transformed into Justin's much younger face. They weren't fooling around in an empty classroom anymore but in a random room back in Hunter's party. Justin's touches were more urgent and rough, his doe eyes had one doom for her - he was going to rape me!
Trudy fiddled with the razor in her shaky hands, stumbling on how to detach it from all the plastic surrounding it so she could get the depth she wanted to achieve. Holding now the free blade against her wrist, Trudy grasped the weight of what she was about to do. Am I really gonna cut myself? Surely, Trudy wouldn't harm her own body, she was far too selfish for that, but as she applied just a little more pressure, the sleek, sharp blade sinking in her skin just enough to cause a sting but not too much it would cut her, Trudy wasn't so sure anymore.
She knew the pain would be horrible, especially if it was self-induced, the wound would leave some nasty scars, and perhaps she didn't have the guts to do such a thing - but Trudy also knew that she was a bitch who deserved everything, she was a Negro - Trudy sobbed harder, pressing the thin blade deeper to see the first drop of blood at that thought - and she truly hated herself more that her horrendous past. Her social image was ruined, her personality was hostile and guarded, and she had zero friends, so Trudy didn't really care whether she lived or died.
