I'm going to try to update asap. But I do have other activities, so don't freak out if I don't update as quickly as you like. Read and review :) Thanks.
~Ana~
I. Need. To. Forget. I. Need. To. Get. Away. Those were the words running through my mind. I hated this place. I hated these stupid grey walls that you couldn't put anything on because you would get "attached." Screw that rule. I had been stuck in this, this. . . stupid orphanage since I was five. I was seventeen, in high school. Who would want a kid like me now?
I had tried to write, tried for almost an hour. I was just so frustrated and the words wouldn't come. What could make me so mad? Oh, right, I had another failed adoption interview. No one would want someone like me. I was average, clumsy, a freak. My brown hair and brown eyes weren't wanted. My age wasn't wanted. My clumsiness wasn't wanted. I wasn't wanted.
I wiped my eyes clean of the tears that had been gathering, and reached under my small single bed. I found the loose floor board easily. I had to fish around a little for the tiny silver box, but I managed to pull it out eventually. I opened the box and pulled out one of the tiny silver blades.
I examined it for a minute. I took in the way the light from the small lamp in my room glinted off of it. The way I could see one of my brown eyes in it. It was pretty, and it would help. It would take my mind off of the pain spinning around in my heart.
I brought the blade to my wrist. I flinched a little at first after the sting, but I welcomed it, and dug the blade a little deepeer. I smiled an leaned my head back against the wall behind me. I transfered the blade to my other hand and did the same to my other wrist. I watched as my own blood flowed and reveled in the sting.
Things started to become a little hazy, but that had happened before. I crawled up into the bed and fell asleep.
I awoke to an anoying beeping noise. Of course, I thought, my alarm clock. How very wrong I was. I opened my eyes to see where the damn thing was and all I saw was white. I located the thing that was beeping, a heart monitor. I was laying in a hospital, tubes up and down in my arms, and white bandages wrapped around my wrist. I sighed.
I didn't think I had cut that deep. I don't even remember getting to the hospital. Was I even awake? I needed to know what had happened, so I pressed the little button on the wall that would call for a nurse or a doctor. I heard it buzz, and a woman's voice told me a doctor would be in in a moment. The voice had sounded disapproving, but how could it not. I mean I looked like some crazy, suicidal, emo chick who wanted to die a slow and painful death.
Well, I guess I was considered emo because now the whole world knew I cut myself. I looked at the floor and found a bed pan, it was reflective enough that I could check out my appearance. Ugh. My usually straightened brown hair was in it's natural state of waves. The black make-up I usually wore on my eyes was smeared down my face. My eyes looked worn and tired. Basically, I looked like shit.
There was a knock on the door to my room. i dropped the dead pan as quickly as I could, as loudly as I could.
"Come in," I called.
The door opened and in walked the prettiest, and I do mean pretty, man I had ever seen. My doctor was man pretty. This was absolutely wonderful.
"Bella Swan?" he asked.
"Yep, that's me," I replied.
"Bella, do you remember anything that happened last night?" he asked, ducking his head and looking in to my eyes.
Oh, so he thought I was an alcoholic too. No. Nope. No. . . again.
"Look doc. I wasn't drunk. I don't drink or do drugs. I cut," he raised his eyebrows at my casual use of the prase, "Now, to answer your question I remember everything up untill the point I fell asleep."
"You flat lined twice last night according to the EMTs," he said seriously.
Oh. Shit. That would explain why I didn't remember anything.
"Well, that's a problem," I said plainly.
"Bella, why. . .?" he trailed off.
"Why do I cut?" I asked.
"Yes," he replied.
"Well, the fact that no one wants me causes a bit of lonelyness to settle into a girl. A bit of emothional pain. So I cut to get away from it. It's as simple as that doctor. . ?" I said.
"Cullen. They said you lived at an orphanage. Don't you have. . .?"
"A family? Hell no. What family would want a seventeen year old cutter who's clumsy as all hell and needs 'an attitude adjustment?'" I said sarcastically, wiping my eyes of the traitor tears that had started to form.
Doctor Cullen looked shocked. It would have been funny if we hadn't been talking about my seventeen year old insecurities.
"I'd like to keep you here for a few days," he said writing on the clip board.
"Whatever you want doc," I told him.
He looked up and gave me this sad little smile. When he walked out of the room I greatfully sank back on to the bed. The stitches pulled in my arm and I gasped. This was going to be a long few days, I thought and closed my eyes.
