The color of love.
It's the color of joy, of danger, of sacrifice, of passion and of courage......It's also the color of blood.
The red drops slipping down my stomach does not symbolize any of the of those meanings.
It's the proof of my weakness.
Proof of my pathetic being.
And I don't care. No one ever cared...so why should I?
The voices echo in my head as I grip the blade tighter, relishing the feel of its tip cutting through my skin. My blood, still warm, drips down to the floor like the broken pieces of me they are. I lean back on the floor, letting my head rest against the wall as I start to feel the stinging pain reach me.
The pills must be wearing off...
I don't mind it. It reminds me that I'm still alive. Still breathing. Still surviving. Waiting for the next piece of bad news.
Because I don't deserve the good.
I could be standing in a crowded room, screaming on top of my lungs, begging for someone to help me , but they will all look the other way. Ignoring my existence. Like I wan't even there.
It would have been better if I was never born...
The cold tiles sting my thighs but I don't bother getting up. It's not like anyone would care if I got a fever.
Maybe then I would die.....
Another jolt of pain stabs my stomach reminding me that the pills are wearing off. I can feel my bottled memories escaping the little cage I had made in my mind and coming out to play.
I'm sorry for being alive......
Old and new memories start to haunt my head, my own piercing voice stabbing my mind as I clutch my head trying to lessen the pain. Tears cling on to my lashes, not wanting to leave the comfort of my eyes.
I never had anything to cling on for comfort...
I stagger up from my position, still clutching my head and make my way to my room next to the bathroom. Leaning on the wall for stability I reach the desk next to my bed and stumble, trying to open the drawer. Once my hand feels the smooth glass of the small bottle I clutch it and open it before popping the last three pills into my mouth, swallowing it dry before taking a sip of water. Without Stella's tea this was my only source of comfort.
Crap I'm out of pills...
Once I feel the effect of the pills kick in, my body is on autopilot as it cleans up the blood on the floor. My thoughts hiding somewhere no one can hurt me.
Once I finish cleaning up the bathroom and dressing my wounds I drag myself out of my room and into the small kitchen from where I can muffled arguments coming. Nico and Angela must be here.
My steps falter as I reach the door and I hold on to the door frame to keep my balance and that's how the others see me. They fall silent as I enter the room and plop into the chair by the small table. Their gazes bore into me but I ignore it. Three weeks had passed and I was used to their continuous stares and glances.
I lean back into the chair, letting my muscles relax as my brain tries to shake off its daze and concentrate on what's happening around me. I open my eyes when I hear the sound of a plate being kept in font of me and see a plate of french toast in front of me. Mason stands beside me, his arms crossed and a small crease between his eyebrows.
"You're finishing that or you're not getting up from there."
The only reason I hadn't ended everything already.
Being around him reminds me of how I used to be, Like the old carefree Dani is still somewhere inside me...waiting for a chance to come out.
But I know the truth.
Everyone changes. He's the perfect guy. Caring, sweet , gentle...loving. But I know..he's just like the others. One day he will have enough of me and that will be my doom...again. I have had enough of people walking over me and what better way to prevent that other than closing off.
Nico and Angela were the same. They seemed like the kindest people and have been noting but nice to me. But I won't let them in.
"Are you even listening to me Mal?" Mason's voice drags me out of my thoughts and I look up to see his jaw ticking.
I stare at the food placed in front of me.
The voice of my tormentors whisper the words in my ear and I push the pate away.
"No" I whisper back to him. Angela and Nico had discreetly left the room and now we were alone in the kitchen.
Mason gives a frustrated sigh and walk to the sink where he starts washing their dishes. A few minutes pass and I break the silence by saying,
"I ran out...."
The plate Mason was washing crashes into the sink, the clambering sound echoing through the room. He turns around running a hand through his hair and letting out a sigh of frustration.
"For fucks sake Mal!! You cant continue like this!! You are not living, you're in your own world.Not eating not sleeping and always hopped up on those damned pills!! I'm not getting you anymore! They're for pain, not pleasure understand!!?"
I knew it...he's just like the others
"I DON'T FUCKING CARE MASON! I NEED THOSE DAMN PILLS AND I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT IT!! YOU EITHER GET ME THOSE OR I'LL GET THEM MY DAMN SELF!!"
I get no warning before I'm shoved to the nearby wall my head hitting it with a thud. My vision goes blank for a second Mason is away from me guilt written all over his face.
"Shit! I'm sorry Mal...did I hurt you?" His voice is pained and choked up but I don't care. He just proved what I always knew.
I shove him away and storm back into my room, shutting the door with a bang. I don't bother to lock it as I made to the bathroom and find my blades fro under the sink. Once the tub is filled I strip out of my clothes and sit into the water. My hands are shaking from the emotions coursing through me combined with the cold water. A few stray tears finally escape their cage and make their way down my face but I don't bother wiping them away.
I won't have to wipe my tears any longer....
My hands don't stop shaking as I make the first cut across my stomach. They falter as I make the first cut on my upper arm but I don't stop.
Their voices combine into one voice that makes me want to claw at my ears. The insults , the hits, the memories the pain...everything hit me together making me let out an ear piercing scream as I slash at myself without a care as to where I'm cutting or how deep the wound is. My movements are rash and without rhythm as I try to block everything but failing miserably...
Mal! This is enough!!
Masons voice echoes through my mind one last time as I make the last two cuts on my wrists. Black spots overtake my vision as I fall into the darkness....a small smile remaining as I do.