i promise

we died.

Running, gasping for air.

One last time.

Reaching my house, I unlocked the door. I knew they weren't home. I left them there.

Promise me, this is the last time.

I run to my room, tears falling from my eyes.

You can't keep doing this.

I sob, laying on my bed. Not bothering to change. I can't, I no longer can do it.

Cassandra, sweetie please.

"Shut up!" I scream, grabbing my head. I kept hearing his word over and over in my head. "Shut the fuck up" I laid back down, sobbing loudly.

Cassandra, please (do)n't cut.
   
The phrase dismembered and became one telling me to do it, in his voice. I got up feeling numb and walked to my in room bathroom. Sitting on the toilet, I grabbed my razor blade hidden along the crease of the cabinet door. I roll up my sleeve like I've done a hundred million times seeing the old scars. no seeing the old art work. Drawing the blade down, I began to draw, everything turn red and I dug the blade deeper.

"Jason, I'll be seeing you. I'm sorry I broke my promise." I whispered slowly...but as things began to go black. I heard my mother worried voice call my name and suddenly the idea of dying right after my older brother didn't seem so good.

Forcing myself up I take off my clothes and get into a cold shower, hoping that it would keep me awake.

"Cass, let's talk please." My father voice shook with fear, it was odd hearing the voice of a man that always so strong, sound so broken. I looked down at me Hands and see the blood wasn't going to stop and I know this is the end. I fucked up.

"Daddy, help. I made a mistake." I scream, as the back to my consequence early hit me. I hear the door break down and my dad shout as I grab the wall trying to stay awake. The last time I saw was my dad warping me up in his jacket.

I sat in a black room, on a white couch with a smaller on to its right, a small coffee table, it was also white. My purple hair tied up with a big white bow in the form of a ponytail. My down casted blue-grey eyes trained on the floor. I looked up at ceiling and sighed loudly. Panic spread through my body and I got up. 'Did I actually kill myself?'

"No, you didn't"

"What I am doing here" the voice sounded like someone I knew.

"I'm here to talk to you, little sister" when I went to answer felt familiar arms wrap around me and tears fall from my eyes.

"Big brother"

"Cass, live for both of us..." the darkness came and disappeared, light flooded in.

I was in a white room with everything was white. I felt someone hand hooked on to mine and I looked at my dad's sleepless eyes, his ash brown hair sprayed along my lap. Chest moving slowly, his grip on my hand tightening and loosening. I stirred, he shot up and started at me, eyes filled with anger, sad and happiness. He hugged me bring me close and began to cry.

“My is cassandra, and I am eighteen." I started slowly looking around at the people who were supposedly the same as me. "I’ve been self-harming for about six years now, I have been losing and gaining weight for a while now. I have a small tummy and its full of scars, some are stretch marks and some are scars. I have scars all over my thighs, some big and small. This is my story: every since I was a child, I felt like i was different. No, that’s not  the word for it. I felt like I was out of place. All the girls wanted dresses, and heels, barbies and were boy crazy. yes even at a young age. Then there was me,I didn't care about my looks or anything like that. I hated myself so much. I hate myself so much. To look in the mirror and see big thighs, a somewhat big stomach, a double chin, chubby cheeks and everyone I've ever been with. I was a fucking second  option, I was a second choice. I was never the girl, they wanted. I was was a great girlfriend, but that never was enough. I could have thrown my life away for them and they still would have chose someone else. So what's wrong with me? I'm fat, ugly and unwanted and unloveable. Everyone  and everything  would be better off if I was dead." The room was quiet after what I said, no 'hey, Cassandra' like in the crappy movies. No clapped, but silent hot cruel tears fell from everyone eyes. "I love how all of you are here in front of me crying and if I was some little stupid naive bitch. I would think that you guys were crying because  you care or you feel bad. But I know that's not true." I pause, hiccuping and choking down tears."All you here are crying because  you have no fucking idea why you are still alive. This group doesn't really help and my life just made made you realize  how much you hate yourself."

"Then why are you still alive? What's your reason to live?" A guy asked me, light blue eyes clouded and grey with tears.

" I made a promise to my bro-"

"We all make promises, sweetie" he cut me off, glaring at me.

"I promise my brother" I repeated  myself, glaring back.

"Anything else, you'd like to add?" The adult in room asked, Lydia. She was a pretty small women with a pixie cut her end a dark brown and the rest of her hair a washed up red color. She was skinny but she wasn't fat either.  Flicking my hair out out of face, I grabbed my guitar  case and start to walk out the room and into the center's lobby, not before looking back.
"I'm already dead inside, so what's the point of trying to fix what's not broken, why not just pretend?"

"Because  we want to be happy." One girl says, getting up. Laughing, I walk out the building.

That was my first day at group, but things changed a Month and half later and the only thing didn't Change was my thoughts and I stood to the last thing I said:

"Because  that's what we're doing, pretend this works, pretend it's helping us. We are all pretending."