Warm salty tears poring out of me eyes, I cant think straight. The room starts spinning. I can't stop thinking, what am I going to do now. I try to stop but just cant. so I do what I always do when shit like this happens. I go outside so my brother wont see me like this, and just let it all out, balling alone. with no one there to comfort me. No safty net to fall on, no 'Im always here for you no matter what forever and always.' speech. ...I have nothing. People always say, they would rather hurt then feel nothing at all, but at this very moment I'm hurting so bad I don't want to feel anything. It's amazing how one little mistake can change the course of your life, and how people look at you.
When I finally get a chance to grap a breath of air, and calm down a bit. I go storming inside, full anger. I have never felt this way before. I ran into the bathroom lock the door, grab my wet shaving razor. Someone must have taken a shower the air was moist, and the mirror was fogged. I smash the razor agents the tile floor, and the blades become lose, I keep doing this over and over again, focusing all my anger to this little task. Finally the blades come loose. And I pick one up, roll up my sleeve, and I press the cold wet blade on my warm, wrist. I push down and glide and slide it across my pail skinny arm, at first it burned, but after, it made my other pain go away. So I did this several times. Blood streaming down my arm now dripping on to the light blue tile, but it started to feel so good, to me that it didn't even cross my mind about the other drama, just now in this moment, I only felt pain in my arm, it hurt like a bitch, but felt so good at the same time. I started to shake, I slowly set down the razor, that was dripping with my red sticky blood. I shuffled over to the sink. I turn the foist on high hot water, wondering if it would cause even more pain.
Suddenly I hear a hard fist pounding on the door. 'Get the hell outta my bathroom Molly!' I hear a deep voice screaming from the other side of the thick wood door. I quickly grab the first towel I see, shove it under the water, grab the red slipper blade, and take the now damp towel put in my sweatshirt, and open the door, to see my dad's beer belly sinking from under his tight smelly polo tee that he must have gotten years ago, with a beer in his hand waiting for me to leave. I swiftly squeeze past his overflowing thighs, and spirit down the hall to my bedroom. My white sweatshirt sleeve is now, cherry red. I strip down to just my bra and jeans. Now pressing as hard as I could agents my wrist, with the towel praying that it would soon stop so I could cover it up before my older brother comes bursting through my doors, wondering where one of he's paint brushes, or notebooks were. So I did what I normally would on a Friday night…sit alone in my black coverd room and blare the music, to drown my dads drunken fights with my slutty step mom Alyssa.
I don't know if I can keep holding on like this… It might be time to let go.