Quiet sobs escape my lips. I'm stood frozen in front of an image I no longer recognize. Tired of staring into emptiness, I bring my fist to the mirror, and hit it repeatedly, until broken shards hit the ground. I look down at the shiny glass, scattered across the floor, mimicking how I feel inside. Bending down, I pick up a piece of glass, and grip it, letting the coolness and warmth of red liquid mix together in my hand. Blood trickles to the floor as I make my way to the tub.
Submerging myself, the boiling water licks and burns my skin to a redness. I can feel the pain consume my entire body, but no sound escapes my lips. The water pours over the edge of the tub as I bring the shard of glass to my wrists and cut as deep as I can bare. Blood seeps from the wounds, soon I'm surrounded by a pool of red.
Sinking deeper and deeper into the water. I can hear someone at the bathroom door yelling, banging, and jiggling the handle, trying to force their way in. Shallow breaths make their way past my lips, until I'm completely consumed by my own darkness.
Shooting up from my sleep, I'm drenched in sweat and tears. My hair is matted to my to face, and my clothes are wet and clinging to my body. Shivering, I pull the damp material from my body.
"Greaaaat, what a wonderful way to start my day. At least this time it was a nightmare of my own doing," I grumble.
Flinging my body off the bed, I pad my way across the hardwood floor to the bathroom. Recent memories, dark and vivid, flood my mind, but pushing them out, I hop in the shower to get ready.
After blow drying my hair, I let it fall to its natural state down my back. Following my usual routine, I conceal the bags under my eyes, add a few strokes of mascara, and a coat or two of lip gloss. Gazing into the mirror, I take in my appearance. My skin is dull but, it's a little bit better than it used to be. Freckles are sprinkled across my nose in little spurts. My red hair falls into waves around my face and down my back. My lips are pink and plump.
But still, those same brown lifeless eyes staring back at me. I guess this is as good as it gets.
I throw on a pair of dark washed skinny jeans, an olive green v-neck top, and pair it with my brown combat boots. Standing in front of the floor length mirror that hangs on my closet door, I take in the sight of myself. I catch a glimpse of the scars covering both my wrists and run my finger along the raised skin, tears brimming my eyes. Quickly wiping them away, I grab a long sleeve plaid button-up shirt to toss over my green one. I take one last look at myself, making sure my scars are covered, and I look semi-decent for my first day of school. Nodding in approval, I run into the bathroom one last time, downing my medication, before making my way downstairs.
Walking into the living room, the sweet aroma of pancakes and bacon fill my nostrils, causing my mouth water. I peek around the corner, spotting my aunt, her short blonde hair swaying just above her shoulders, setting the table for breakfast, and completely unaware of my presence.
Aunt May is my mom's younger sister. She's in her mid-thirties and had her life completely turned upside down when she became my legal guardian. To be honest, I don't really know much about her, she wasn't around much while I was growing up. My mom used to say it was because her and my dad didn't get along, but she never really went into depth about it.
Eyes landing on me, I know I've been caught, and decide to make my way to the table. Giving her a small smile, I take my seat.
"Goodmorning, honey," she coos, her voice way to cheerful for the morning.
Responding, less than enthusiastic, "Goodmorning."
"I made all your favorite breakfast items! We have eggs, pancakes, and bacon. Oh, and I warmed up the syrup for you." She smiles, setting the contents in front of me.
"Thanks, you didn't have to do all of this for me," I say, pushing the contents around my plate, my nerves suddenly forbidding me from any form of appetite.
"Oh baby, it's no problem. I know your mom used to do this for you on the first day of school every school year. I wanted you to start your senior year off right!"
I wince at the mention of my mom. Memories of her long red hair and beautiful smile flashing across my mind. Shaking the thoughts of her away, pushing up my sleeves, I attempt to eat. Unable to eat more than a bite of pancake and two pieces of bacon, I take my dirty dishes to the sink to clean them. Feeling eyes on me, I glance up, catching Aunt May's sight.
"I thought you were going to wear that pretty yellow sundress I bought for you last week," She questions, quizzically looking at my outfit.
My hand unknowingly goes to my left wrist, tracing over the soft pink scar. Catching the action, her eyes fall to my wrist, and I immediately pull down the sleeves of my shirt.
With concern in her eyes and a tight lipped smile, "Oh, I see. Well, you look absolutely beautiful no matter what you wear."
Ignoring her comment, I quickly head to the small mudroom next to the front door, and pick up my black backpack, slinging it over my shoulder.
She chases after me, "Fen, don't you need a ride to school? You're already running late!"
"It's fine." I state.
Before she could finish her sentence, I was out the door, and on my way to school. It was only three blocks away so it couldn't be that bad, right?
Of course I was wrong. Dead wrong. I didn't take into account the traffic and cross walks so it took me double the time I intended it to. Instead of ten minutes late, I'm twenty minutes late, and I still have yet to get my schedule. I could've gotten my schedule at open house but, I didn't leave the house or my room all summer. Especially after the incident, it took me awhile to recover.
Finally, after another ten minutes to get my schedule, I head to my first class, which is almost over with, and stand in front of the door. Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself before entering the room.
It's okay. It's fine. Everything's fine. I can do this.
The door closes behind me with a loud bang, echoing throughout the classroom. Everyone's eyes dart up and they're all on me. I can feel my face starting to flame, red painting my cheeks, until the teacher finally glances over and gives me a smile.
"Are you the new student," he asks, pulling his thick rimmed glasses down to the tip of his nose.
I nod quickly and he gestures, "Class this is our new student, Fenley Madison."
Their eyes peer at me with blazing curiousity, scrutinising me with each blink, every glare.
So much for staying under the radar and quietly getting through my senior year. Fucking perfect.