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It should be impossible to feel nothing and everything all at the same time. But that’s the only way to explain it. Like I’m so numb I’m hyperaware. It’s weird and I hate it.
I hate it so much, I just want it to stop.
I want it to be over.
I want to be the girl I wasbefore. Before I kissed Elliot. Before my dad died. Before I became this… this broken empty shell.
A girl I barely recognise.
Pushing the covers off, I stumble off the bed and rush into Elliot’s bathroom.
If I could just make it stop for a second.
I just need it to stop.
Frustration and helplessness build inside me, rising like a tidal wave I can’t escape. Except the wave doesn’t break. It just hovers there, taunting me.
I scan the vanity before moving onto the cabinet above the sink. I checked before—and I know Elliot emptied out his razors already—but there must be something.
There must be?—
Bingo.
My eyes snag on a small pair of cosmetic scissors tucked away on the back of the shelf.
They’re so small and delicate they’re practically harmless.
I drop down to the tiles and lean back against the shower cubicle.
Just a little cut.
One little cut to get it out.
The hopelessness. The endless despair. The utter, utter loneliness.
Sliding my forefinger and thumb into the handles, I open and close the scissors a couple of times.
So tiny.
So harmless
And yet…
“What the fuck are you doing?” Elliot growls from the doorway, startling me.
“I-I… I don’t know.” My voice wavers as my hand hovers between my thighs.
I didn’t even realise I’d moved it there.
“Abi, I swear to fucking God. Put the scissors down.”
“I… I can’t.”
“Put. Them. Down.” He steps into the room, taking every last ounce of air with him. My entire body vibrates as he glares down at me.
“Abigail.”
The scissors clatter to the floor and my heart tumbles, free falling through me. “I—I didn’t mean?—”
