Red RIbbons

She has been on the phone, talking to the one person she loves and trusts most.  He made a mistake…..which made her make the same mistake………………..

“....I promise not to do it again…” She says as the ribbons of blood flow down her skin.  So many times, in the past she has said this.  So many times, in the past she has broken this precious promise.  A promise that could save her life.  She will stop.  This will be the final time this promise is broken.  

She tries so hard.  To battle off the demons that consume her every thought.  Her every movement.  Her every emotion.  She tries so hard to make other understand.  But this….this…..this monster that has been growing inside of her...has gotten out of control.  She was ok.  She was doing so well.  She didn't realize that she was going to fall again.  She thought she was safe.  But she cannot control the beast inside.  What's inside is hideous.  A darkness that engulfs her entire being.    Thoughts…….that should never be said aloud.  Scenes that should never become a reality.  So many attempts…  So many battle wounds.  She doesn't know what came over her.  They say that the less you know, the better off you are.  But that's not how she is.  Don't think for a split second that she's insane, or just seeking attention.  It just fuels the fire of demons that engulfs her.  You don't realize what she goes through everyday….every second, every hour, every minute of her life.  She is insecure about everything.  Except for her battle scars.  Scars that she has attained while she battled to stay alive.  Many will say that she is ‘suicidal’  But what do you know about her?  Nothing.  She doesn't let many in close to her.  Only a select few know how broken she really is.  Only a handful know the battles she has been through.  Nothing will ever make her cover her scars.  In a way she wears them with pride.  Not afraid to say what they really are.  

Many will say that she is ‘suicidal’, and for her to stay away from them.  Yeah. She may be ‘suicidal’ like you say.  Many fear the suicidal.  She's ‘Suicidal’, not ‘Homicidal’.  She will not hurt you.  But even so,.........She is not ‘suicidal’.  Just alone.  And scared.  Hopeless.  Helpless.  Unloved.  Her mother loves her, yes.  So does the one person that she loves and trusts.  Her boyfriend.  Her soulmate.  Her future.  Her fiance.  She hasn't seen her mum in two years once august passes.  Nothing will change her unconditional love for her mum.  But she misses her greatly.  Her mum is everything to her.  Ner mum is/was best friend.  But now she can't talk to her best friend.  Cant ask for advice.  Ask for help with the demons.  With her anxiety.  Depression.  Paranoia.  And so much worse.  She does have her boyfriend.  He can help with the demons.  But she is still learning how to talk to him about things.  She is terrified that if she tells him about her demons, that he will run.  Run far away from her, and never come back.  She can't lose him.  He helps her through so much.  Just seeing him at school, or even a picture that he sends, helps her.  She cares so much about him.  So hearing him cry, causes her to shed silent tears.  Hearing him say that he's hurt himself, makes her hurt herself too.  She draws a picture.  But with a twist.  A blade is her pencil, her paper is her wrist.  She paints a picture.  But instead of a brush, she uses a blade.  Her canvas is her thigh.  She watches.  As the small pools of blood form.  And she watches.  As the red blood, flows like a slow moving river.  Down her leg.  The small, slow, crimson rivers, create the most beautiful Red RIbbons.  She is an artist.  Her body shows her art.  She is an artist.  Her canvas is her body.  She needs someone who will love her canvas.  To say that it is beautiful.  Even with her ugly artwork. Her work has a dark meaning, a dark past, but there are plants the grow out of complete darkness.  And these plants often glow.

Reviews

[VALORMORE DE PLUME]

Some of us take in the darkness from others. It festers within. The sharp edge distracts us from that festering poison for a moment, which feels like we are releasing it. Yet it grows as we blame our self for the intrusive shadows, cast by other people's demons.

[Jade]

all art work has a deep meaning to it, just like poetry is considered a lost art these days. wonderful story

[Geodan]

Thank you for entering my contest. This story is so sad and it hits my heart. Wonderful work. Congratulations!