The reason for my pain

A girl is repeatedly mollested by a man she trusted and becomes attempts suicide

     As I sat in my room and cried, watching as teardropps fall...one...after....another. I looked at the pretty pattern they made on my blanket, like a flower. I raised my hand to catch them. They formed a pool in my hand, a living pool, my sorrow, my sadness, my anger, all of it was there falling into my hand with my tears. I tipped my hand to let the tears flow out and watched them turn the flower pattern into a big spot.

   Blindly I reach over to the drawer by my bed. I knew it would be there, hidden like always, under rubber bands and paper clips. Slowly I pulled out my oldest friend, my first love, my razor. I smiled, where others had left me, where my family had faild me, this friend had not. When people had lied to me, my friend was there to make things clear. All it took was a cupple cuts untill I felt the truth, untill I felt...normal. This time it took longer. I had placed two on each shoulder and three on my stomach before I felt the relese. I was always carful; if I did to many or cut in open places, people would notice. Not my parents, they never notice me. Not my friends they dont care enough to notice, but teachers, strangers, my sisters. They always notice.

   I layed down on my back, watching the blood roll from my shoulders almost like how my tear dropps had rolled from my eyes earlier. I put my finders up to it, my blood was warm and sticky.How much blood does a body hold, how much can you loose? I looked at my hand. I picked up the razor and cut deeply accross my palm. Blood bloomed from my hand like a rose and dripped down my wrist. I brought the razor to the crook of my elbow. I could see the blue vain pulsing softly beneth my translucent skin. I had barley punctured the skin and already the blood was spurting heavier than from my other wounds. I cut deeper. The pain was more intence and I let myself fall into it. It was a sudden clarity. I pushed the razor into my other elbow and the bood started to drip. I felt light, I had never gone this far before.

   I was closing my eyes when I felt the urge to fight, a self preservation I didnt know I possesed. I didn't want to die, not yet. "It would be easier", death reasond with me, "You wouln't have to fight." I felt part of me give in, but the other half held on. Then suddenly intence pain, I screemed and everything went black.

 

  The sound of dripping brought me back to conciceness. I was in the hospital. I could tell by the smell. My arms and palms were bandaged and i could feel more on my stomach and shoulders. I had lived. The door to my room opend and in he walked, and thats when I remebered.There was a reason for my pain, and looking at him, had I really wanted to live?

Author's Note

I tried to do something with emotion, but I dont know if it worked out well so please tell me what you REALLY think...everything...please be honnest!!

Reviews

[emily]

I think you hit the emotion well, for some one who I know to NOT be a cutter! It was an interesting piece, very different from your others, but a very good write all in all!