Page 24

No. No.

My movements come to a screeching halt, exactly aware of where it’s leading. I haven’t been here in a long time.

Even when I got suspended, holed up in this tiny apartment, even when I moved out.

I wanted this to be in the past, I was leaving the dreadful place and I didn’t want the memories to follow.

My movements come to a screeching halt, exactly aware of where it’s leading. I haven’t been here in a long time.

I was stupid to think I could have a normal life. Stupid. Stupid.

My fault.

You don’t deserve to live.

Die. Fucking. Die.

I am stupid, because you can escape places, not your own thoughts.

I had nightmares every night yet I endured. I decided I’ll fight the urge no matter what. Because scars are ugly and everlasting just like my nightmares.

But I can only fight one demon at a time.

I turn the shower off and get up, intentionally avoiding looking into the mirror because I’m embarrassed of my actions.

My red hands tremble as I open the last drawer and grab hold of my face razor.

“Stop using the damn knife if you don’t know how to use it, Elara.” The voice rings in my head.

You don’t really wanna live when you hate yourself this much and it just took me one incident to go back to the old ways.

I remember the time my sister caught me in the act. Shock and fury blazed in her eyes as she grabbed my wrist and made me promise never to do it again.

She said. “It’ll scar and scars are ugly and you love wearing shorts and people will see.”

I could merely nod, my shame burning hotter than the cuts across my thighs.

In reality, she was feeling horrible to have found me like that. I could see the guilt on her face—her shock wasn’t that she’d failed to raise me right, but—that she had to witness it.

That’s when it hit me: you’re not supposed to hurt yourself, because the people around you have to carry the weight of those emotions too.

She cleaned the wounds silently, her hands gentle but precise, and said nothing at first. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, almost heavy with disappointment.

“After everything I’ve done to provide for you…you shouldn’t be acting like this. You need to behave properly, not recklessly.” Then she went quiet again, the silence stretching and grating on my nerves until I couldn’t take it anymore.

I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper. “I—I think I might be depressed.”

My attempt failed, if it was quiet earlier, now it was downright eerie. Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say.

She jerked, her hands gripping tightly onto my shoulders, forcing me to look into her eyes.

“You are not depressed.” She told me, she wanted me to believe her.

“But I feel like killing myself.” My words were incoherent beneath all the sobbing however, I knew she understood me, her eyes widened before she took control of her emotions.

“I—”

“People who say they are depressed just want attention.” She stood up, looking down on me, telling me my feelings were invalid. “You aren’t hungry for attention, are you?”