I stare at my body in the mirror, then turn back to my room.
This… this… is what I do. This… I'm okay with this. No. Or… yes. Maybe? I don't know… this is what happens when I remember. This is why I hate silence, because the silence makes me remember.
My room is a mess, glass shattered, pieces of wood spread here and there from a chair I smashed against the wall, and blood in splatters here and there from me letting out my anger on myself by stabbing and cutting myself with the same exact knife in my hand. That knife … I stare at it for a moment, then turn back to the mirror looking at my naked body, looking at each scar I've carved into myself, acknowledging every last one. For some reason it just… pisses me off! My grip on the knife tightens and I throw it, letting out an annoyed scream. The knife plunges deep into the wall. But, I just ignore it and decide to just put my clothes on and start to clean my room.
~~~~~~ time skip to morning ~~~~~~
"Hey Angel!" A familiar voice calls, I turn to be greeted with Neil, walking towards me.
"Hello Neil, this is a little unexpected usually it's me talking to you, not the other way around." I say with my usual 'smile'.
"I just wanted to ask, I thought I heard a scream come from your farm, or house, is everything okay?"
"Yeah, I just had a really bad dream last night, I'm fine. Hey, I have to go water my plants and take care of my animals, so, I'll see you around."
"Yeah, see 'ya"
He turns and walks away as I wave goodbye and go back to my farm, where silence is everywhere.
I finish up my work, and go into my house, I plop down in a new chair that I bought to replace the old one. For awhile I just… sit there. Until the silence gets to me again.
What are you going to do? You can't die, you can't go back, and you ARE worthless, and, not to mention, pitiful. Then again, why DON'T you go back, you deserve whatever he does to you anyway.
Shut up.
Plus, you can't help this place anyway, you'll do nothing but get in the way. And no one wants you here anyway. Just fucking leave, no one will care if you do.
Shut the hell up.
Worthless!
I stand, then clutch my head.
No one gives a single DAMN about you! Just fucking leave, you deserve what he does to you.
"Shut the fuck up!" I grab a plate and throw it across the room, causing it to shatter. I start to cry, and start sobbing into my hands.
"Shut…up…" I murmur
I begin to clean up the glass, then I pick up an exceptionally large, sharp, piece of glass.
You deserve this, just do it. Who will find out? And also, who the hell would care? No one.
I tighten my grip on the glass, and it cuts into my skin, staining it a crimson red.
No one has EVER cared, so why should they start now? No one has cared. Does care. Or ever will care.
I stab into the space just below my shoulder, then drag the glass down, leaving a thin, bloody trail down my arm.
Shut up.
Shut up.
Shut up.
Shut up.
Those are the words I will carve into my skin.
Shut up.
Shut up.
Shut up.