Title: Cut
Author: Eden
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the story plot.
Summary: Liz lives with her drunk mother and without a father. So to escape her pain she cuts herself. The kids at school call her a freak, but a certain new kid moves to Roswell and is the only one who can save her....
Note: If you wanna post this story on your site or something just ask me, I'll let ya.
SarcasticAngel27@hotmail.com
"God, why are you so stupid?! All I ask is that you do what you're told! You can't even do that!" My mother yells from across the room. Her face is red now and contorted with rage. She reminds me of the demons I used to dream about.
She keeps yelling and I crawl back into my corner. I'm sixteen and still afraid of her. She is the source of my pain. I find the only way to escape is cutting, watching the blood flow down I feel calm, all too soon though, that bliss ends and the pain returns. No one sees my scars, I'm not important enough to notice. People say I'm not worth a second thought. I guess they're right.
I hear glass shatter and notice it at my feet. The yelling has stopped and the door has slammed. I let out a long sigh of relief and pull up my sleeves to examine my arms. The old scars are starting to fade, but the new ones are still sensitive to the touch. I wince as I stand amidst the shards of glass that surround my feet, and survey the room. Broken glass covers the floor and table has turned completely over. I hear the phone ringing and being careful not to trip on anything, I reluctantly pick it up.
"Hello?" my voice sounds so childish.
"Elizabeth are you okay?" my grandmother's soothing voice asks.
I let out a long breath and clear my throat.
"Yes, Grandmother, I'm fine. Mom just left if you were calling for her." I try to sound calm, failing miserably.
"You know very well that I'm not calling for your drunk mother," she pauses, "Did your mother hit you again Elizabeth?"
Oh God! I don't want to tell her. Mom would just hurt me worse if she finds out.
"No, she just went to the store," to buy more booze I add silently.
"Well all right, but if she hits you Liz, you come and tell me. Understand?"
"Yes grandmother."
"Okay, well I need to go and fix your grandfather supper, so goodnight."
"Night," I hang up the phone, shaking.
I need to clean this place up before she gets home. I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry and grab a broom. That's when the tears start to fall. God why am I crying? It makes me feel all the weaker. I wipe my eyes and look at my razor blade on the counter. I think for a minute and pick it up. My head hurts so bad right now. I look in the mirror and make a cut up near my neck, relaxing. I watch the blood flow down slowly. I close my eyes, feeling calm and almost serene. I slowly make another cut without wincing. I suppose I'm used to the comforting pain. No torture could compare to my mother, anyway. I shiver and hear the door open. Snapping to attention I pull a turtleneck from a nearby laundry basket, pull it over my head and walk back into the living room. She's standing there, the cause of my nightmares, has finally sobered up a bit.
"Elizabeth," she says slowly with a hint of a drunken drawl, " You know I didn't mean anything I said."
I stay silent.
"Honey…" She reaches for me.
I back away and look at her, "No."
She flinches and looks hurt, but I don't care.
"You're always drinking and hurting me," I think for a moment then ass softly, "Ever since Dad left."
She sighs and picks up her coat, "I'm going out."
"Yeah right, go get drunk like always!" I scream out. My face is red and my blood boils, but she ignores me and walks out. Alone once more, I lean against the wall and slide down to the floor, as my tears flow shamelessly.
Author: Eden
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the story plot.
Summary: Liz lives with her drunk mother and without a father. So to escape her pain she cuts herself. The kids at school call her a freak, but a certain new kid moves to Roswell and is the only one who can save her....
Note: If you wanna post this story on your site or something just ask me, I'll let ya.
SarcasticAngel27@hotmail.com
"God, why are you so stupid?! All I ask is that you do what you're told! You can't even do that!" My mother yells from across the room. Her face is red now and contorted with rage. She reminds me of the demons I used to dream about.
She keeps yelling and I crawl back into my corner. I'm sixteen and still afraid of her. She is the source of my pain. I find the only way to escape is cutting, watching the blood flow down I feel calm, all too soon though, that bliss ends and the pain returns. No one sees my scars, I'm not important enough to notice. People say I'm not worth a second thought. I guess they're right.
I hear glass shatter and notice it at my feet. The yelling has stopped and the door has slammed. I let out a long sigh of relief and pull up my sleeves to examine my arms. The old scars are starting to fade, but the new ones are still sensitive to the touch. I wince as I stand amidst the shards of glass that surround my feet, and survey the room. Broken glass covers the floor and table has turned completely over. I hear the phone ringing and being careful not to trip on anything, I reluctantly pick it up.
"Hello?" my voice sounds so childish.
"Elizabeth are you okay?" my grandmother's soothing voice asks.
I let out a long breath and clear my throat.
"Yes, Grandmother, I'm fine. Mom just left if you were calling for her." I try to sound calm, failing miserably.
"You know very well that I'm not calling for your drunk mother," she pauses, "Did your mother hit you again Elizabeth?"
Oh God! I don't want to tell her. Mom would just hurt me worse if she finds out.
"No, she just went to the store," to buy more booze I add silently.
"Well all right, but if she hits you Liz, you come and tell me. Understand?"
"Yes grandmother."
"Okay, well I need to go and fix your grandfather supper, so goodnight."
"Night," I hang up the phone, shaking.
I need to clean this place up before she gets home. I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry and grab a broom. That's when the tears start to fall. God why am I crying? It makes me feel all the weaker. I wipe my eyes and look at my razor blade on the counter. I think for a minute and pick it up. My head hurts so bad right now. I look in the mirror and make a cut up near my neck, relaxing. I watch the blood flow down slowly. I close my eyes, feeling calm and almost serene. I slowly make another cut without wincing. I suppose I'm used to the comforting pain. No torture could compare to my mother, anyway. I shiver and hear the door open. Snapping to attention I pull a turtleneck from a nearby laundry basket, pull it over my head and walk back into the living room. She's standing there, the cause of my nightmares, has finally sobered up a bit.
"Elizabeth," she says slowly with a hint of a drunken drawl, " You know I didn't mean anything I said."
I stay silent.
"Honey…" She reaches for me.
I back away and look at her, "No."
She flinches and looks hurt, but I don't care.
"You're always drinking and hurting me," I think for a moment then ass softly, "Ever since Dad left."
She sighs and picks up her coat, "I'm going out."
"Yeah right, go get drunk like always!" I scream out. My face is red and my blood boils, but she ignores me and walks out. Alone once more, I lean against the wall and slide down to the floor, as my tears flow shamelessly.
