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.