Shut Up, Padfoot!

60

Pandora

The world is spinning.

My hands shake and my head feels light. I stumble into the wall, my prints embedding themself in the wallpaper. Colors swarmed my vision, ripples of saturated hues burn into my mind.

The slick swiped my hand away from the wall. With nauseating waves, I stagger into the bathroom. My hip ran into the sink, a resounding bang, bone to porcelain.

The tremble of my hands worsened, my thumb tilting the faucet tab up. Quick stream of water splattered on the white sink, splashing into the air.

Droplets of blood dripped off my fingers. Speckles permanently stained under my nails. I submerged my hands, wrists taking in water to thin the blood out. Cold liquid wove through the crevices of my palms.

"Why won't it come off?" I murmured, my own words jumbled.

I scrubbed, hard. The thick consistency clung to my skin no matter how quickly I washed. Even if the majority of it is gone, it'll still be there for the rest of my life.

I'm a mess.

I've never been so disorganized before. My completely neat life has shattered the moment I stepped off the train. My seventh year was supposed to be the best year of my life. To come off the steps and be a graduate.

I don't know where the knife is. I must've dropped it somewhere. How could I do that? What if someone traces it back to me? I have to leave. I have to disappear. My life will be ruined. Much more than I already have.

"Fuck.. soap- I need soap, goddamnit, why is it stuck?" I sobbed.

I slouched over the sink, digging my nails into the creases to get the blood out. Reddened water swirled down the drain but patches of it remained on the outer rim of the bowl.

I remember the sleek of the handle in my hand. It felt forbidden to even be holding it. Everything was wrong about it. Then the stabbing...

I- I could feel the knife push deep into her. Layers of skin, slicing in organs, grazing bone. I pushed in each and every bit and I felt it all.

Swallowing hard, I braced myself. I breathed in quick, trying to suppress my incoming panic attack. I can't do this. I need to be put together. I need control. I can't be here and freak out. I need to be in control. I need to be in control. I need to be in control.

The dizziness hit. Water trickled down my wrists and to my elbows. Curving over the joint. I looked up, catching my reflection in the mirror.

Pale sickness overwhelmed my face. It's not the usual pale I'm used to, it's deadly. Abnormal, ill. Sweat buildup my temple and tears fell down my cheeks.

"Stop.. freaking out. Gain control, don't let them win," I shakily said.

I inhaled sharply through my nose. My chest constricted, nails digging in the underside of the sink. Dirt rubbing against my fingertips.

Blowing out, I caught a tear falling down the corner of my eye again. I bit my lip harshly, my teeth puncturing my bottom mouth. Blood streaming out and I got a little on my tongue. Metallic spread along my gums, the inside of my cheek, my taste buds.

"Don't let them win. Gain control. Don't let them win. G-gain control," I repeated.

I breathed in again, front heaving upwards. Hair strands caught on my moist lips, lashes matted together with tears. Cheeks rubbed raw with emotion.

My exhale came out quieter this time. The process is slow. To stop myself from breaking is difficult. Need to stay together. Need to keep the image tightly secured. Can't let the truth peek through.

The mirror fogged up with my warm breaths. Only watching my own puffy eyes through a twisted version of me. I don't know who that is anymore. She's a different person now.

God.. the sound she made when the knife exited her body. The slivery feeling of her blood erupted and sprayed my clothing. Once bright wet spots formed dark red stains in my shirt.

Quickly, I pulled the shirt over my head. I placed it under the running water. The material soaked fast. I rubbed the blood out as best as I could. It spread and I almost broke. I didn't finish composing myself yet and this could've been the dealbreaker.

"Don't let them win. Don't let them win," I muttered.

My hair fell down my shoulder, the ends tickling my bare skin. My frown deepened as I added more pressure. Don't think about anything. If you think about the way she stared at you, if you think about her life flashing in her eyes, if you feel the layers of her body again when you pull the knife out, you'll break. You'll break and you can't have control. You need control. You need control.

Stay focused. Clean clean clean. Clean the shirt. Clean the stain. Clean the blood. Get it out, get it out, get it out.

"Cry, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.. why did I listen to you," I apologized to no one. There's no one to say this to.

I wish it hadn't been a train station. Anywhere but here. Here is where her worst fears came true. Here is where she dreaded the end to be. Here is her death place. And I made it a reality.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I need control, I need control, I need control. Get control, don't let go. Let go and you're dead. Stay in control, I need control," I chanted.

My back hunched over. The underwire of my bralette dug into my skin, pressing a deep engraving. Sweat piled up my skin.

i'm losing it. I'm losing what little I used to have. I could trust my mind, I could depend on myself to have the answers. Why couldn't it hold out a bit longer? Just to get the control back. Just to keep me sane.

"Get control, I need it. I need control, stay in it. Stay in control, get it," I continued to say under my breath.

-lana
kinda short; sorry!