Sam ran home. She needed to treat her arm but there was no way in hell she was gonna let Danny see it. Not whens she kept her secret from him for this long. She raced down the street, heart beating wildly by the time she made it up the front porch of her house. She stopped, placing her hand over her heart to catch her breath. Tears blurred her vision. She shouldn't of ran with her arm like that, she needed to get inside, and get her arm fixed.
She slung open the front door, feeling the air conditioner catch her off guard from the hot day. Her parents were out (as usual) with out even leaving a note (as usual). Sam just scowled at the empty rooms and shot up the stairs, gritting her teeth as pain passed through her arm. At the top of the stairs, her black door cashed with the cream walls and she safe Haven. A haven where parents didn't dare enter and it was just her, and her friends. Whether the human (or halfa) kind, or the metal kind.
She turned the knob and nearly fell into the cold of her room, greeted by the soft black carpet and the soft punk music playing from her speakers. Shit, she must of forgotten to turn it off. She just sighed and got up, careful of her arm.
Once she trudged into the bathroom, she looked in the mirror. She didn't want to, but she did. Her eyes, which usually held life in their violet orbs, were now empty, full of fear. Her lips, which always held a smirk, were motionless, a straight line. It scared her to look in the mirror, to see her self, a person she despised.
She eyed her hoodie, which now had a rip where the test tube hit. She scowled at the reflection, and carefully took the hoodie off, cringing at where the blood made it stick to her skin. She eyed the area where the test tube shattered. There must of been, 2, 3 big pieces? she wasn't sure, only that it would hurt like hell.
She opened one of the white drawers in her bathroom counter, rummaging through until she found three things. A pair of tweezers, a first aid kit, and a razor blade (one of many).
She needed to get to work on her arm. She sat down on the step stool, bracing herself as she placed the tip of the tweezers on this first piece of glass. Just lightly touching it send hot trindles of pain through her arm.
"3...2...1..." She counted slowly, her voice shaking as she ripped the piece out. She nearly screamed in pain if she hadn't of stuffed her fist in her mouth, tears clouding her vision.
"Two more,two more. You got this Sam, you-you got this." She reminded herself, taking a deep breath.
No you don't, you can't handle anything, why bother? Let it get infected, don't go to the doctor, die, like you know you deserve.
There it was, that voice again. She wanted to yell, to scream at it to shut up, but it never listened, it just haunted her.
Sammy Sammy. Does it matter. why put yourself through more pain. End it, end it now.
She wanted to punch herself in the face. This voice was her. It was her telling her these tings. controlling her. Sam hadn't even realized she had poised the tweezers over the next piece of glass, and without counting down, she ripped it out, yelling and screaming into her hand. Teeth ripped the flesh on her hand, leaving bite marks as blood trickled down them.
"One more Sam. Just..." She placed the tweezers on the end of the glass. "One..." Sam shut her eyes, placing her already bleeding fist in her mouth. "MORE..." She screamed, ripped the glass out. She breathed heavily, watching the blood flow easily down her arm in a daze. It was numb,it hurt like hell, so why was she smiling? Sam shook it off her face.
She grabbed the first aid kit, smeared some cream on it, and wrapped it up tightly. She didn't want to see or deal with it again. She looked at the floor of her bathroom. Blood was splattered in some places on the deep purple tiles, and the white counter top had a bloody hand print. Sam sighed, grabbing a black towel and wiping up as much as she could, having to use a good bit of water to get it off the white counter.
She took her torn, bloody hoodie and threw it in the hamper. She hated it anyways.
Next, she did the worst thing she probably should of done. She looked at the one tool left on her counter. The blade. They voice echoed in her mind.
Do it. No one knows, it doesn't matter. Do it.
The bagging voice, the voice that thrust her arm out onto the counter, the voice that slid that blade across her wrist again, the voice that left Sam crying after 4 swipes.
Sam let the tears mix with the red liquid slowly oozing from her wrist. She didn't register her phone ringing until the second ring, and she snapped out of it. She looked around frantically and realized she had left it in the pocket of her hoodie. She nearly dove to the hamper, struggling to grasp the ringing phone, but she did, on the last ring.
"Hello?" She chocked out.
"Sam?" A voice on the other line called. It was Danny, and she could hear the worry laced in his voice.
"Oh.. Hey Danny." She said, wiping her nose and drying her eyes, trying to keep her voice as calm and level as possible.
"Are you okay? You sound like you've been crying?" He asks.
"No, I'm fine. What's up?" She asked, leaning against the counter.
"Umm. Tuck and I are at Nasty Burger,care to join us?" He asks. Sam looked around. Shit, She still needed to out a bandage on her fresh cuts, clean up the blood on her fist and tear a brush through her hair. She needed an excuse and she needed one fast.
"I.. I um.." She started to say, but Danny interrupted her.
"Please?" He asked. Sam's heart melted.
"Be there in 15." She grumbled, closing her phone and shoving it in the pocket of her jeans. She grumbled at the mirror, taking the same wet towel and dabbing at her bloodied fist and arm before wrapping both in a bandage. She tore a brush through her hair, ignoring the tearing sounds. She needed to look at least presentable.
Once she was finished in the bathroom, she walked into her room to find another jacket. The first one she laid eyes on however, brought the smallest of smiles to her face. It was Danny's blue sweatshirt. He gave it to Sam one night walking home from a Movie with Tucker and her. Sam was an idiot and just wore her tank top on an October night, and Danny was nice enough to give her his Jacket, seeing as he was wearing long sleeves anyways.
She smiled at the memory, shoved the sweatshirt over her hed, and headed off. She barreled down the stairs, taking a step out into the warm night, shooting a quick text to Danny.
On my way..
We're sitting at our usual table. Want me to go ahead and get you something?
Grape Soda would be good.
Got it
She closed her phone, and looked down at the sidewalk. She hoped he didn't ask about her hand, or the sweatshirt. All she could do right now was hope.