Cherish
*Trigger warning: cutting, mentions of eating disorder
Cherish’s point of view.
My name is Cherish Skye Knightly. My favorite animals are foxes; their fiery red fur matches my fiery red hair. I have a hate/love relationship with my hair color, most days I love it, other days I wish it would fall off my head. I should’ve expected getting red hair, as my mother and older sister Alaina are also redheads. My little brother Terrance barely dodged the bullet, having auburn hair and tougher skin, only having freckles on his scrawny arms.
I have a few dull freckles on my nose. When I was little, everyone would compliment my hair and how cute my freckles looked on my nose. Years later, nobody cared, and I only hated my freckles more. I tried covering my freckles with concealer and cute little flower stickers, but the stickers always made me look more ridiculous. Looking in my wall mirror, the photo booth strips of me and my best friend Brielle tacked to the wall flashed happy memories in my mind.
Brielle. Her green-blue eyes resembling precious gems from the sea saw right through me. My ex-best friend was the more accurate term for her. We were best friends since second grade when I changed schools, and were always attached to the hip: endless slumber parties, trick-or-treating, vacations, inside jokes, the happiest times of my life.
Everything crashed and burned in tenth grade during the month of October when my dad’s radio station went bankrupt. My father had been the DJ there for years, even before me and my siblings were born, using the money from his days of being a marine to create the station. We almost lost the house weeks later, but thankfully, my dad took money out of his savings to pay it off. But the goal of my father and my mother (a former stay-at-home mom) finding jobs still continued, we hoped there would still be a roof over our heads and food in the fridge until then.
Brielle was less than sympathetic. Her family’s always been rich, she would never have to work as long as she was still living with mommy and daddy. She made new friends over the summer, Sherri and Dana, and even before my personal problems began, she was already acting different; whispering to the two wannabes, giggling and not telling me what was so funny, indicating that they were talking about me. And I didn’t like it. It had been three weeks and I was still angry.
I confronted Brielle about it and she brushed it off and said I was being too sensitive. I pretended it didn’t bother me when in reality, it burrowed inside of me and gradually burrowed deeper and deeper. I didn’t know what Brielle’s problem was, but this isn’t how best friends act towards each other.
The day I told her my family was going broke, she threw me aside like yesterday’s garbage.
“You can’t be my best friend anymore, I need friends who have no problems, personal struggles are a huge sign of weakness,” she said. Her lack of caring and pity only hurt more.
Since then, she made my life a living hell: showing up at our old hangout areas knowing I would be there, whispering and talking about me behind my back, giving me fake waves and smiles. My best friend turned into my enemy, a stranger, somebody that I used to know.
And I was all alone.
Photo strips of happy memories in my hand, how I wish I could’ve ripped it in half, but my heart wouldn’t give me the strength. Instead, I just put the strip at the bottom of my sock drawer, and pulled out my special purple razor. I sat on my bed, rolled up my sleeve, and cut into my arm. The pain was excruciating, but I couldn’t help but feel a sense of twisted pleasure as I saw the blood come out of my wrist. Every time I cut, I swore it would be the last time, but cutting is a hard, painful habit you can’t get yourself to break.
I started cutting at 14, just a few weeks after my birthday. I gained two pounds after all the weeks of loving attention and endless sweets. I’ve always been curvy, but whenever I looked in the mirror, all I saw was flab. Alaina, my big sister, my hero, has always been beautiful; long red hair, flawless skin, tall, curves in all the right places, everything I wasn’t. I’ve always been short (five-foot-three), pale white skin, and constantly feeling like a baby cow.
I always cut a tiny heart into my wrist, it symbolized the lack of love I had for myself. Most teenagers don’t love themselves, but I was so far from love, I was closer to the word “hate.” That thought inspired me; the word hate was then shining on my skin in crimson red liquid.
Not only was I dealing with a self-harming problem, I was struggling with an eating disorder. I occasionally threw up after meals, but I only purged on days I truly felt shitty about my body (especially during my monthly cycles). I learned about eating disorders in health class, but I was in denial, I mean, I had control over my purging, that didn’t mean anything, right?
My arm was soaked in blood. I went to the bathroom and cleaned off the blood. I grabbed my special fairy hairbrush and combed out my arm-length hair. I never grew my hair that long before, but I was trying to reinvent myself. Ever since me and Brielle faded, I was trying to figure out who I was and stand on my own feet as Cherish Knightly, the girl formerly known as popular Brielle Phillips’ best friend; now that I wasn’t linked with hot pants’ arm anymore, nobody in school noticed me anymore. I had popularity and in a flash, it was gone before my sky blue eyes. You’d be amazed how one person could take so much away from you.
I’m a skilled artist and my room was decorated wall to wall with my drawings. I love watching Anime and reading Manga comic books and I thought it would’ve been cool to try to mirror the drawing styles. I succeeded.
My specialties are people, animals, and mythical creatures. I’m obsessed with fairies, ever since age six. I always draw them, each with their one personality, hair style, back story, and pet.
My most prized fairy has always been Comet. Red hair with rainbow streaks, jaded green eyes, ocean blue wings, not one freckle in sight, tall, had the legs to wear the shortest miniskirts. Of course, her loyal pet is Pyro the fox, who could shoot fire out of his mouth. Comet has always been the ideal fairy I aspired to be.
I created Comet to have the ability to shoot rainbows out of her hands. If I was Comet, could I use my rainbow powers to color my black-hearted life and emotions that I hid everyday with a fake smile?
