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But when I remember what the nightmare was about and what happened in school today, my face crumples and sobs break out of me. The memories of what happened won’t go away and I’m sick and tired of it.
It was Trent and Ivy.
It was fucking Trent and Ivy!
I should have known it would be them. I don’t know why the thought never crossed my mind. I guess I just didn’t think they’d be so evil to do what they did.
And now I can’t tell Knox. I don’t know if he’d care or not. Even if he did, I still can’t tell him because Trent said he has a video. If he’s capable of rape, then he’s capable of uploading it everywhere too.
Plus, they’re right. I don’t know how he’d react to finding out I was raped. He could throw me away like trash. He’s said that he loves me, not that I really believe him, but if he was to throw me away after saying that, he really would be breaking me. I’m barely holding it together now.
I storm off the bed a second later and head straight into the bathroom. I know exactly what will help me right now. I don’t want to do it, but I’m too weak to stop. It’s one of the few things that help me cope with all the stress and anxiety.
I sit on the bathroom floor, still naked from earlier and begin cutting my arm yet again. I let out a cry as the blade slices my skin. It hurts but it also feels good. I cut deeper than I usually do because the pain helps to soothe my soul.
When the pain engulfs me so much that I can’t bear to even cut anymore, I stand up and move to stand in front of the mirror.
I look myself in the eye. I hate everything that I see there looking back at me.
I wish I wasn’t like this.
I wish I was normal.
But most of all, I wish I didn’t let them turn me into the person I am right now.
I feel lost.
I feel broken.
I feel pathetic.
I wish I finally had the balls to end this insufferable existence.
I just want to be at peace.
No more pain.
No more suffering.
No more anxiety attacks.
No more depression.
Just peace…
I fucking hate looking at myself. Without thinking too much on it, I grab a pair of scissors from one of the drawers and start cutting my hair.
When the first strand falls to the floor, a scream rips out of me. I scream and sob as I keep cutting my hair, wishing I could scream all the pain away.
I don’t want to do this anymore, but I don’t know how to end it either. All I know is that it’s getting worse every day. My psyche is crumbling and there’s no way to stop.
I don’t even realize I’m not alone until his voice cuts through the fog I was in. “Baby! What did you do?”
I stop my hand midair and I focus on myself in the mirror. My breaths are coming out fast and it feels like I’ve been running a marathon with the way my heart is racing. I can imagine the scene of how I look right now—naked, arms in the air, blood dripping down them, and half my hair on the floor.Deranged, most likely.
I start to laugh at the picture but then more sobs start and I can’t do anything to stop them. My chest hurts so bad and all I want is for this pain to go away. My sob pulls him out of whatever trance he was in and he rushes toward me.
He grabs the scissors and throws it away from me. It lands in the tub. He grabs me and pulls me into his arms. All of a sudden, I feel drained. I’m shivering, but in the next moment, I’m irrationally angry. I push him away from me and then get closer again so I can start hitting him.
