You. Are. A. Disgusting. Whore.
Rose looked up at herself in the mirror. She had dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, ad her skin was so pale, it looked as though she had never touched the light of the sun. Tentatively, she reached up and touched her cheek, which was ice cold.
You're fat. You're ugly. Nobody likes you, you bitch.
The voice never stopped. It was constantly insulting her. Telling her that she wasn't pretty, or that she was a slut, or that no one loved her. And the sad part was, she believed every word.
Hey, ugly! See that knife on the counter?
Rose glanced down at the metal object lying on the cool bathroom tile.
Use it. Make yourself bleed.
She hesitantly picked it up. It wasn't good for her, she knew. But she had to admit, it felt… good. Watching her pain flow out of her with her blood. It was like a way of cleansing herself. Ridding herself of the bad qualities that the voice insisted she possessed.
She turned the knife over and over in her hand, contemplating where she would make her mark. Rose held her left wrist out over the sink. Three marks for the three people she loved: her mum, Jackie, her best mate, Mickey, and the man she was falling in love with, the Doctor.
She dragged the knife slowly across her skin. The pale fabric of her existence ripped under the edge of the blade, opening her up for the blood to seep out. One.
"I'm sorry, mum." She whispered.
Again! The voice urged.
This time, she flicked the knife across her skin quickly. The speed of the knife determined the type of pain she felt. A quick flick brought blood first, with pain after. Her vital fluid leaked out of the twin wounds. Two.
"I'm sorry, Mickey."
Again, you slut!
She paused for a moment, half savoring the feeling, half hesitant to swipe again. Rose closed her eyes. She tenderly placed the knife on her skin, dragging it across agonizingly slowly. The cut was a bit deeper and longer than normal. A tear slid gently down her cheek. It was very painful, it always was, but that's why it felt good. She was giving herself what she deserved. Three.
"I'm so sorry, Doctor. I'm sorry that I'm such a dirty, whorish piece of trash. I'm sorry that you died and changed your face because I wasn't smart enough to figure out a decent way to save you. I'm sorry… I'm so sorry." Her voice rose in volume as she went on to describe her flaws.
That's right. You're a stupid, ugly whore. And guess what!
She raised her head to look in the mirror again. Mascara was streaked down her face, and her eyes were puffy and red. Blood spilled down on her hand, tinting it red, and dripping off her fingers and onto the bathroom floor. Drip. Drip. Drip.
You're fat. Look at that awful stomach of yours! And those thighs! Blimey, you're like a whale!
Rose blinked and looked again. The voice was right. She was a fat, ugly whore. Her stomach bulged and her arms and thighs jiggled at the slightest movement.
God, you're disgusting! Stick your finger down your fat-ass throat and get rid of that breakfast the Doctor made for you! I can't believe you still eat knowing that you look like this! The voice in her head screamed. Get rid of all those calories you continue to shovel into your gob!
She made her way to the toilet and kneeled down. This was the part she didn't like. The bile burned her as it made its way back up, and she didn't feel the same rush as she did when she used a blade.
Rose stuffed her index finger down her throat and heaved. The sickly sweet product of her stomach came pouring out of her, leaving a scratchy feeling in her throat and a rotten taste on her tongue when she was empty.
The young blonde moved back and rested her forehead on the toilet seat. She decided she would just skip out on eating. If she didn't eat, then she didn't have anything to barf out, right? There would be no more being fat. She would be skinny, and pretty, if she put on enough makeup. For the Doctor.
The voice laughed in her head. You can make yourself skinny, but with that face… You'll never be pretty. Look at that mouth, it belongs on a cow! And those roots need touching up! It's obvious you're not blonde, even though you have the intelligence of one.
Another tear slipped from her eye and dropped onto the floor with a splat.
Cry all you want. 'Cause you know it's true.
And she did. So she let her tears out. They were of little use to her, but she let them flow freely. The cold liquid was a small comfort, almost like an automated calming mechanism.
She silenced herself at a knock on the door.
"Rose? Are you alright?" The Doctor called gently.
She sniffled and hastily wiped her tears away. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." Her voice was hoarse, and she he would notice.
"Are you sure? I thought I heard you talking… Why don't you open the door, Rose?"
Don't let him in!
"No, no. I'm fine."
"Please, Rose. Just open the door." He pleaded.
She sighed and got up, quickly checking her appearance before moving to the door. Opening it just a crack, she peered out at the Doctor.
"See? Fine."
"Rose…" He looked into her eyes, before pushing the door open a bit more.
"No! No, no, no!" Rose tried to close the door, but he looked down and saw the small drops of blood all over the floor. She quickly hid her arm behind her.
"Is that blood?" He looked up at her. "Rose. Are you alright?"
"I told you, I'm fine. I cut myself shaving, that's all."
He looked at her for a moment to see if she was lying. He couldn't tell, so he decided not to push her.
"Okay. Supper is almost ready." The Doctor moved away from the door, and Rose shut it gratefully. He was so silent for a moment, Rose thought that he had left, before he spoke again.
"Rose?" His voice was quiet and gentle.
"Yeah?"
"If something's wrong, you know that you can tell me, right? You can tell me anything." She could hear the honesty in his voice.
Pshh. Like you'd tell him. Like I'd let you tell him. This is our secret.
"I know," she replied to the voice in her head.
Satisfied with what he thought was her answer to him, the Doctor muttered a quick 'hurry to dinner' and left.
Rose turned to the sink and switched the water on. Slipping her arm under the water, she watched as her blood was washed down the drain. She patted her arm dry with a dark towel that blood wouldn't show up on, then bandaged the third cut she had made. It was deeper than she intended, and was still bleeding a little.
She pulled her sleeves down over her wrists, taped her knife to the top of a drawer, and knelt down to wipe up the blood on the floor. For good measure, she took her shaving razor and dipped it in one of the puddles of blood. When the bathroom was clean and she looked somewhat presentable (despite what the voice had to say about it) she quietly opened the door and slipped out into the hallway.
Inviting smells lead her to the kitchen, where the Doctor was laying a fresh Shepard's Pie on the table. Rose knew that the TARDIS made it, but she always let the Doctor pretend that he was a great cook.
"I think I'm going to skip dinner tonight Doctor," she said with a small smile. "I'm just not very hungry." He looked at her suspiciously.
"Rose. Are you…" He paused, unsure of whether or not he should continue. "Are you absolutely sure you're okay?"
The voice in her head laughed, and she plastered a smile on her face. "Of course. I'm always okay."
I hope you guys liked this! Big thanks to Charlie (oldbutnew-newbutold) for beta reading! Reviews much appreciated!
ALSO: I don't think blonde people are stupid. Just the judgmental voice!
Please review!
-Edith :)
