Happy Monday, my lovelies! I've been sitting on this chapter for literally like a week because it's gone through several changes. I am very indecisive and I apologize. Hopefully you lovely people enjoy the chapter even though it's very late. ~Shaymie
Lorin's POV
It was probably childish of me to lock myself in the hallway bathroom, but it was the only place I could think to go on such short notice. I had hit her. My own sister. I collapsed against the bathroom door, trembling. I didn't believe in resolving arguments with violence. It led to nothing but trouble. Both my father and James had shown me that. I refused to be like them.
Darcy had left what felt like ages ago. I tugged at my hair frantically. She hadn't even come to check on me before she left. She didn't even want to talk to me. Of course she didn't. I slapped her. My chest felt constricted at the thought. How could I do that? I didn't mean for that to happen. I just got really mad and lashed out. It wasn't right. I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have…
You've been a bad girl, Lorin. I shook my head as James' taunting voice entered my head. He's not real, I had to remind myself. He's not here. He's in jail. He can't hurt me anymore. None of what he says is true. He's just trying to get a reaction from me. I can't let him get to me.
Bad girls deserve to be punished. Have you forgotten everything we've taught you? I traced a finger over the burn on my hand. How could I forget what James and Maria had taught me when they literally beat it into me every chance they got- or in Maria's case, burned a constant reminder into my skin. I was supposed to be obedient. I shouldn't talk back. I shouldn't yell. And I definitely shouldn't hit anyone.
She's your sister. Even I wouldn't stoop so low as to hit my own flesh and blood. Maria's voice taunted me as I stood up on shaky legs and walked over to the sink. I gripped the edge of it and looked at my reflection. My entire face was pale with the exception of my nose and cheeks, which were bright red. The paleness of my face only made my freckles stand out more. I wrinkled my nose and looked away from it. My tremblings hands somehow managed to turn the sink on. I splashed cold water in my face to try and steady my nerves. That's right, I hadn't taken my medicine yet. I was going to wait until I ate breakfast, but then I had yelled at Darcy…
You don't deserve your medicine. You don't even deserve food, You deserve punishment, my mind yelled at me. I turned the water off and bit my lip. I shouldn't listen to them. They were just trying to get me to hurt myself. My psychiatrist told me to ignore the voices when they showed up. But it was hard to block them out when they were so loud. They wouldn't shut up just because I wanted them to. The only way to get them to stop was to do what they wanted.
I couldn't do that. I promised to not hurt myself anymore. But the voices were just too damn loud. It wasn't like I was trying to kill myself. It was just going to be a cut. A single one. I wasn't falling back into old habits. I wouldn't. I just had to get these stupid voices to leave me alone. This was different than before. Back then, I was addicted to the pain. It made me feel something. Seeing my own blood rush over my skin was exhilarating. I'd felt like I had control over something in my life. I wasn't able to control my emotions. I couldn't stop the stupid intrusive thoughts that would invade my brain. But I could control this. I could control how deep I cut, how often I did it…
"Just one," I reminded myself as I left the bathroom and went towards the kitchen. The voices were overwhelming now. My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest. I felt nauseous, but I had to keep going. My body was on autopilot as I rummaged through the cabinets, looking for the knives. They weren't what I normally used, but I didn't have any razors. I would have to be careful.
I found the knives in the highest cabinet and flinched as my phone started to ring. In my shock, I dropped the container holding the knives. I groaned and climbed down from my chair carefully, answering John's call as I did. I put him on speaker and quietly explained what had happened as I looked through the knives to find the best one. I didn't remember much of what I said. It was a blur. I did remember yelling at him. Great. Just another thing I needed to punish myself for.
I found a knife that was both small and sharp and put the rest back in the cabinet. I moved the chair back to the table and walked back to the bathroom. If I was really going through with this, I might as well do it in the same place as always. The voices weren't as loud as they were earlier, but they were still hard to ignore. I shouldn't listen to them. They weren't real. They couldn't do anything to me. They'd go away eventually, and I knew that, but I just wanted them to shut up. I couldn't take it anymore.
I closed myself back into the bathroom and stared down at the knife. My vision grew blurry with tears. I didn't want to do this. I shouldn't have to give in to these stupid voices. I had promised everyone I wouldn't hurt myself anymore. I promised Alex. They trusted me. I'm supposed to be getting better. I'm supposed to be past this. My hands started to tremble. There had to be another way to get the voices to shut up.
I shook my head furiously and set the knife down on the edge of the sink. The voices in my head were mocking me, but I couldn't go through with it. I couldn't be selfish anymore. I sobbed as I slid down to the floor and curled up. I hated being like this. I hated being so weak. My psychiatrist said that the voices were just a symptom of my panic attacks. He mentioned something about me having a case of severe anxiety. Auditory hallucinations should be the norm for me. But they hadn't started until after James and Maria-
I jumped to my feet as I heard Alex's voice calling my name. My nails dug into my arms. How long had I been scratching myself? How long had I been in here? My appointment was at 11, but I obviously hadn't made it. School didn't end until 2:30, and since Alex had stayed for debate club, it had to at least be 5:00. Had I really been having this panic attack for hours? It shouldn't be lasting this long. They never lasted this long. I want it to stop already.
"Lo, are you home?" Alex called, his voice growing closer. "Martha's car is in the driveway…"
I squeaked as my nails drew blood. Alex's footsteps got closer. I took deep breaths to try to calm myself down. I was safe. I was fine. Nothing could hurt me. I wouldn't hurt myself. Darcy may hate me, but there was no reason to punish myself over it. Sisters argued all the time, didn't they? This just happened to be our first real one. We didn't mean what we'd said to each other… I hope. I know I hadn't meant what I said.
Years ago, I told Darcy I wouldn't judge her on what-or who-she does. She said that she was trying to find out who she was. She was trying to find out what she was. I had been her only form of support. Everyone back home would make fun of her. They would call her names. Her own father shunned her. Until she came down here for a visit and met everyone, I was her only real friend. She'd told me stories about some of the girls back home who would pretend to be her friend, only to turn on her and tell her darkest secrets to the world. It was part of the reason she started asking everyone else to call her Darcy. New name, new her. Before then, it was just my nickname for her.
I left the bathroom once I had gathered myself and immediately bumped into Alex. He put a hand on my shoulder to steady me and smiled at me, though it faded when he looked at my face. I was sure I looked like a mess. He didn't say a word. He just wiped some stray tears from my face and hugged me. I let myself melt into his touch. I was so tired, my eyes drifted shut on their own. The last thing I heard before falling asleep was Alex asking if I was okay.