You never truly forget your first cut. The fear and pain in your eyes. Sitting on the bathroom floor, that's where it happened for me. I can't remember why I did it exactly. Bad day at school, I think. They were mocking me again, pushing me, laughing at me. It didn't happen quickly. I sat on my bed for ages just staring at my sharpener. Waiting for someone to run in and tell me to stop. But no-one did. I was alone.
I grabbed it and ran into my bathroom, I locked the door and sat on the edge of the bathtub. I wasn't too sure how to get the blade out. No-one had told me how. I moved across the room and grabbed some scissors and took the blade out. It took me a couple of minutes, but I did it. I sat back on the bath, and held out my wrist. I stared at the blade, turning it in my hand. Did I really want to do this? 'Just do it, you pathetic creature' the voice in my head was loud. I pushed the blade into my wrist. Gently at first, seeing if anything would happen. The blood started dripping after a couple of seconds. One cut, two cuts, three cuts.
There was a knock at the door. 'Dan, are you OK?' It was my mother.
'Yeah, I'm fine.' I tried to choke out. I didn't realise I had started to cry. I dropped the blade and walked over to the sink. I cleaned the blood away, but every time I did, a new bit would trickle down my arm. After it was only bleeding a little bit, I pulled my sleeve down and walked out, as if nothing had happened. I threw the blade in the bin because I was never doing that again. It didn't help at all. I still feel shit, but now I'm scarred as well. Never again, I told myself. 'Do you really believe that?' the voice whispered into my ear.
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4 years later
You never forget your last cut. It had been a bad day. Arguments with Phil, money problems, hiding my scars, having to eat even though I'm fat enough. Just another day I guess. Why? Why do I keep letting each day beat me down? I knew what I had to do, to get it to stop. Phil had gone to the shop, I was alone. Again. I sat on my bed staring at my sharpener. I grabbed it one last time and walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I knew Phil wouldn't be home for a while, but it seemed right. To finish how I had started. I sat on the edge of the bathtub. Deja vu. It took me a second to get the blade out, years of practise. I pulled my sleeve up to reveal a battlefield on my arm. This is it, no turning back now. 'Just do it already' I've gotten used to the voice now. He's my best friend. I lower the blade to my skin. One cut, two cuts, three cuts. The room started spinning. I could feel it happening. The world was getting darker. 'Finally' the voice spoke, one final time.
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