The yelling is getting worse and worse. The words they throw at each other are like replicas of the blades I use on myself at night. How could two people, who are supposed to be in love, be so negative to one another? I was brought up to believe in true love and faith. But yet, the two role models in my life decide to throw it all away and break the rules.
I never planned on spending my nights curled in a ball, arms stinging with fresh hate. I never planned on being so cold, so alone. I never planned on having two parents who despised each other. I never planned on being alone through one of the toughest battles of my life.
Here I am, sitting on the floor in my bathroom. My mother is screaming at my father, saying how he screwed up our lives. How Darcy is gone because of him. How he doesn't love us anymore. It's the usual, daily conversation. But this conversation is violent, words throwing punches. While my parents are downstairs fighting over god knows what, I'm sitting up here, alone, slicing my skin open with a blade.
I'm a good girl. I know it. I'm told that every day of my life. But I need a way to call out for help. I've hit an all time low. Instead of being the cheery, straight-A, beautiful daughter that I used to be, I'm now a silent, terrified, cutter.
But I don't want to die. That's horrible. I just want to be found. I want someone to pick me up, hold me, and tell me it's going to be alright. Someone who will always be there for me. But of course, no one will find me. No one will ever help me. And that is what makes me sink farther down into this hole of despair.