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onaipwolf

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She looked at the darkness. The scene enveloped her senses. The dark, the cold, a freighting image of her inner fears. She drew the blade across her skin. Pressing lightly at first, hesitating. Her heart began to beat a little quicker. With a sudden resolution, she put more force on the blade and pulled it across her skin. She waited for the release, the inevitable sight of blood; a stark contrast against her pale skin. But, nothing. The blade was too dull, her resolve too weak. She stared at the shiny metal in her hand. All sense of control gone. All peace, lost in the failure of this last act. The failure of her situation. The failure of her inability to cope. To figure out how to find solace. To understand herself the way she wanted to. To know who she was, and who she wanted to be. The last shred of control gone. Lost. She crumpled to the floor in desperation. If only… she thought unable and unwilling to finish the sentence. Another day, just a few more days, why do they take so long, she thought. Questions with no answers swirled around in her head. She didn’t know how to cope. The thought of picking up her knife, of swiftly plunging it into her stomach, of doing something drastic, just because she could, appealed to her. She looked at who she was, who she always thought she would be, of how her whole life was being thrown upside down, and a moan of desperation escaped from her lips. It was all that was needed. The tears came. Tears of confusion, hurt, and hope, all mingled in a display of sorrow.

The sorrow tore at her soul, anguish overwhelming her senses. She lay there for what seemed like forever. Gradually, a feeling of emptiness crept into her chest. The tears abated and she pushed herself up. The pain continued but she pushed it away. Anger began to bubble to the surface: anger at herself, at her life, at everything. Her eye caught sight of the blade lying on the counter. She reached her hand out and took hold of it. Placing the blade against the flesh just above the wrist on the inside of her left arm, she swiftly pressed down and pulled the blade across her skin. She felt a sharp sting and looked down to see a crimson line across her wrist. A strange mix of triumph and sorrow flashed across her mind as she brought the blade to her flesh once again.  As she continued, the pain grew more intense followed by a subsequent feeling of numbness which overcame her. She did not know how long she kneeled on the floor running the blade across her wrist, but she began to feel shaky as time began to slow. All the hurt in her life, her anger and self deprecating mounted within her mind as the blood began to flow more freely. Finally, she could take it no longer and screamed at herself. “You little whore, did you ever think you were worth anything. Did you ever think to hope that someone would care about you in this life? You deserve to be alone. You’re getting less than what you deserve.”  Feeling overwhelmed once again, she let the now stained knife drop from her hands and she curled up into a little ball on the hard cold floor, the tears threatening to return to her face once again.

Then she wiped her tears away and before they could really begin again, placed the knife back in the drawer, and splashed cool water on her face.  She was nothing more than a mass of cells, in an infinite universe. Order, calm, she didn’t need it, she lied to herself. She tried to hold back her pain with a wall made of sand, but the waves kept crashing in, and it was coming down faster than she could build it.