It was just a game.
Much like a childhood version of tag, or hide and seek, or cops and robbers. That's all it was to me. I'd hide away, in secret, making sure Mom and George were off on a date, Derek somwhere with a girl draped on his arm, Lizzie and Edwin spying, Marti making potions. I'd plan ahead for weeks, for that one night. At first I only played the game once and a great while. Then it became a weekly routine. I found myself playing almost every other day. It started out of curiosity, out of indulgement. But then it spiraled into a sheer want, a need, borderlining obsession. I never thought of the consequences, of how it would affect me in the long run. But why should I have thought ahead? After all, it was only a game.
Each round I'd do it the same way. I'd step into the bathroom, lock the door, and turn on the bathtub. Reach into the cupboard, move aside Mom's makeup, the first aid kit, Lizzie's shampoo...and there it was. The shiny silver instrument, the ultimate key in this game of mine. I'd shed my clothes and step into the bath when the water was on the verge of running over, one smooth movement. Only then did the real game begin.
One particularly windy, wintry day in Febuary, I decided to play my game after a fight with Derek as he left for hockey playoffs. I was home alone, although Lizzie and Mom would be home from the mall in thirty minutes. That's plenty of time, right?
I was so wrapped up in my game that the passage of time basically froze, the way it always does. I got so focused on blade, skin, red, that I never heard Lizzie and Mom come home.
All of the sudden, the bathroom spun! I dropped the razor, heard the metallic clang it created as it hit the floor, it sounded so far away. Every muscle in my body relaxed against my will, my head slammed against the wall behind me. There was red, everywhere. Much more than usual. First all I saw was red, then black at the corner of my eyes. I became scared -- I tried to scream, but the black came rushing all around me, it filled my vision, it was everywhere. I felt my consiousness fade, fade away, into the black that consumed me.
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Lizzie stumbled into the bathroom and fell to the floor, her eyes widening as she saw the blood on the floor. She screamed for Mom to come into the bathroom. Mom came in and screamed, her reaction mirroring Lizzie's. Mom knelt at the bathtub in shock. Who was that girl? Who was that girl laying there in the pool of blood and water? Who was that girl with her eyes closed, her face wincing in pain, her wrists marred and bloody? Who was she? I heard her mutter my name. Why mine? That couldn't be me! I was only playing a game! Games can't kill you, right?
Realization dawned as the scene faded before my eyes. Only then did it come to me: I was not playing just a game. I was teasing death, I was mutilating myself, I was marring myself, I was making a huge mistake. Why didn't I see that? Why didn't I save myself in time? Of course I didn't.
After all, it was only a game.