Keep Me Insane With Your Steady Heartbeat | Jackson Rathbone |

Keep Me Insane With Your Steady Heartbeat | Jackson Rathbone | 1

Name : Selena Aleister

Age : 20

My steps halted immediately, my grip on the doorknob loosening as I stared at the scene in front of me with an unsurprised expression. Embarrassed, my gaze shifted to the door room floor as my roommate, Sara, smiled at me sympathetically.

She climbed off of the handsome boy that was underneath her; and I was grateful that they had their clothes on and they'd only been kissing.

I bowed my head ever so slightly as she and the boy came to stand in front of myself, "Sorry."

Sara had heard my murmured apology, "It's alright. Selena, this is Adrian."

I was used to her bringing different men over at least once a week, and I didn't mind. It wasn't my business and Sara was grateful that I didn't pry. We didn't converse much, and we gave each other space. She understood my need to be alone most of the time and I respected her despite her guiltless expressions after she left our room countless times with different men.

"Hi." I said after a moment, trying to smile. Adrian must have thought I was strange, for he gazed over my entire form more than once before his eyes rested on my face.

My gaze kept to the carpet underneath their feet as he grinned, "Hey."

Meeting new people scared me, initially. I was always frightened that they would question my expressions, the way I dressed, and the way I carried myself. I subconsciously tugged at the sleeves of my jacket as my wrists itched.

Seemingly sensing my discomfort, Sara saved me, "I'll see you later."

And the two disappeared out the dorm room and down the hall.

I closed the door behind them slowly, mulling over a variety of thoughts that were met with bitter silence. I wondered how I did on my latesttests and if my parents at home missed me. Most likely.

My lips twitched upwards at the thought of my parents. I loved them. I missed them.

I stumbled blindly into the bathroom that Sara and I shared, closing the door quietly and locking it. I gripped the rim of my round sink, leaning forwards slightly to stare at myself in the mirror. I placed a strand of hair behind my ear as I gazed at myself in the eyes.

"Why can't I stop?" I asked, my voice a dreadful monotone.

I received no answer.

Turning away from my expression as my eyes seemed to frown at me, I knelt to the ground. Wordlessly, I reached underneath one of my cabinets and grabbed my father's old letter opener.

I sat down on the edge of the tub and turned the sharp piece of metal over in my hands; admiring every flaw like it deserved it. I ran my thumb over dull crimson stains. I pursed my lips after a moment and thought about meeting up with my rather good friends, Trina and Mark. They had told me about other methods. And I was eager to learn about them and try them out.

My emotionless mask transformed into one of complete ecstasy as the golden letter opener carved into my skin and I saw fresh vermillion.

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Trina and Mark said I had a problem, an issue if you will. They were different from me; they had cigarettes and not 'letter openers' or 'knives'. I could only find them early in the morning or late at night; only when the sun was down, and they were very antisocial. But I was glad that they had each other for maybe not comfort, but the pleasure of knowing that someone would listen to them without casting them incredulous looks.

I agreed and disagreed. I did not want to call what I did to myself an 'issue' or a 'problem'. But I knew that what I did was not normal and I should probably stop. But nothing will make me stop, especially since I've been doing it for seven years.