Bra ran up the passage and slammed shut her door. What did he know? She asked herself, after all he was what many people including himself called a father. But to be honest to herself he felt more like a stepfather to her. She hated him, she absolutely hated him, she thought that no-one could understand the pain or otherwise they just pretended they did.
She got out the knife and slit into her wrist. Bright crimson blood dotted the carpet. She looked down and saw the faint scars, scars from previous cuts. What did they know? Who cared, she thought as each cut seemed to be deeper.
The walls seemed to close in on her. The storm got louder. She ached to be out in it. Creeping out the front door the dark stormy night sallowed her up as she walked across the road to the beach.
*****
The rain fell, the wind howled. The thunder threatened, the lightening struck. He stood at the top of the sand dunes and looked at her, watched her, wondered what she was doing out on a night like this, she must have only been about fifteen.
She walked across the rocks.
She ran across the sand.
And before he knew it she fell.
She fell flat down the wind knocking her weakened body over. He jumped down from his spot and rushed over, picking up her unconscious body he dashed with her in his arms back to the house whilst the lightening struck angrily at his heels.
What on earth am I doing? He thought over and over as he busily cleaned and dressed the young girls' wound on her wrist. What had she done to herself? He knew this wasn't the right time to be asking questions. Not whilst he had an unconscious girl in his lounge.
Warmth.
She needed warmth. Not to much but a blanket or two just to keep the cold chill of her.
*****
Bra awoke. Not knowing where she was. She looked at the strange things surrounding her, she could tell straight away she was not in a hospital anywhere. The room was cosy, to cosy for her liking, to bright. The bright yellow and orange of the walls seemed to clash with the light coloured soft blue carpet. Something wasn't right. She knew.
He crept into the room, on what seemed like soft silky feet. He head snapped around to look at him. He held a knife in his hands.
"I . . . I . . . I have to go" stuttered Bra
"No, not yet, not before. . ." he replied.
"Not before what?" She grew more worried. Something was going on here, she didn't like it.
"I have been watching you. You do not wish to live. You have been cutting into yourself. You think no-one cares."
"No-one does care! No-one understands!" I yelled back to him.
"Well then I shall help you. Come over here"
I stood up on shaking feet and walked over to him. He asked me to turn around. I obeyed him. He wrapped his arms around my waist and held the knife to my throat. I felt the coolness of the steel blade on my throat. Before I could scream out he pushed the blade into my throat and threw back his head a laughed.