Stop
The bedroom door slams, but it doesn't drown out the noise from downstairs. Nothing will. Even when they're all asleep and their mouths shut, the noise still goes through her head. It never stops.
The room is dark. Even with the light on, the room was dark. The one bare bulb was low and trapped in a corner, just making everything an unnatural orange. It was suffocating, yet too big at the same time.
Seeing the adjacent door, she went through it into the windowless bathroom. Locking that door behind her, she could still hear the curses and insults. Even when the bathroom stereo was turned on and music blasted, the voices still haunted her mind. Not good enough… your fault… your responsibility… you… you… you…
The scissors just sit there, small and seemingly harmless. They're used for cutting nails, nothing more.
She grabs them. What would it feel like if she just lightly ran them across her skin? How hard would he have to push to break through? How much to harm her? How much to kill her?
She didn't want to hurt herself
… as she added pressure.
She didn't want to kill herself
… as the blood welled
And spilled
And stained the carpet
She didn't want attention
… as the pain finally it her and her throat released a hoarse scream.
And the yelling kept going
And the fighting continued
And the words fought inside her head
Not my fault
My fault
My fault
She just wanted it all
To
Stop
She just wanted
normal
And peace
And love
And silence
But it will
Never
Stop
The blood
Spills
And stains
And scars
And paints pictures from her wrist to the floor.
She watches
Not being able
To make
It
Stop
Ean: This doesn't actually say Rima, but it is. I wrote this because I know someone who did injure themself a few days ago, and I wanted to get inside their head and know what they were feeling. So this is my interpretation from talking to them.
