It started as an accident. Or an accidentally on purpose accident to be more precise. Regardless of how it started, I never meant for it to turn into this. To spiral into this addiction. I can't seem to go a day without a fix now, I ache for the numbness, I crave the deep, dark empty blackness that it causes. If I wasn't broken before I am now. I am shattered, smashed into a thousand tiny pieces. Just like the broken picture frame that started all of this.
I still have that first shard. That first piece of sharp, jagged glass that dug its way into my skin and dragged my down this path.
I still remember the pain. Intense, sharp, a burning fire across my arm as I pulled the glass out.
But mostly I remember the numbness that followed. Not physical numbness, god no, that cut stung like a mother for hours. I mean the mental numbness. It was like someone threw a thick dark blanket over my brain and for the first time in months I felt peace.
I watched as a steady stream of blood rushed from the wound and slowly began dripping onto the carpet, staining it red.
Of course, the peace didn't last. An intense wave of shame crashed over me making my face burn as hot as my wounded arm. I launched the glass across the room, disgusted in it and in myself.
Before I could dwell any longer on what an idiotic mess I was becoming I clamped a hand down on the offending wound and rushed down to the kitchen where I knew Charlie stashed the first aid kit.
A little while later and I was bandaged up and all the evidence of my little lapse in common sense erased.
Well, not all.
Bella smiled to herself as she caressed the shard of glass that started this downward spiral all those months ago. Six to be exact if the number of scars along her forearm were correct; one for each month she survived this hell people dared call a life.
In the beginning, she worried that people would notice. That she would be locked up, forced to swallow pills or god forbid, take counselling sessions but nobody noticed, nobody even cared. Everyone she thought cared about her had packed up and left to protect her, keep her safe. Idiots, she scoffed.
They were so convinced that they were the dangerous monsters, turns out they ended up leaving her alone with the most dangerous monster of all; herself.
Just as Bella was bringing the glass to her already marred arm a high-pitched chime filled the room, distracting her and forcing her to put down the shard. With a sigh she grabbed her phone and loaded the message:
Woke up and realised it's the 7th.
Thought I'd check in.
You done it yet?
Bella smiled gently as she typed out a reply.
Glad you're still breathing.
I was just about to but someone interrupted me!
She waited a few seconds for the reply to come through. Sure enough, 30 seconds later her phone chimed again with the oh so familiar response.
Wasn't really feeling it anyway.
Not enough mood lighting.
Ooo you need candles, and bubbles!
Oh and some soft jazz music in the background!
Bella couldn't stop the laugh that burst from her as she replied.
And get into the most ridiculously uncomfortable slinky Pj's,
draw the curtains,
fan out on a fur rug…
Faux fur bitch!
So right though, I guess today is not the day.
Gotta have some class for yo Glass!
Don't ever say that again!
But thanks T.
Is it safe to leave you?
I have therapy in 30mins and I need to paint on my Sunshine and Rainbows face.
I'm fine, glass is away, arms are clear.
Oo sounds fun I'm devastated I can't be with you!
I know right!
I can't believe you don't want to spend an hour with me learning about how beautiful the world is and how lucky we are to be alive!
Totally missing out!
Next time though!
It's a date!
Got to go.
Check in later.
Bella placed the phone down and picked up the discarded glass shard.
"Not today" she whispered as she tucked it back into the hiding spot under her mattress.
The texting had become a routine that started four months ago when Bella joined an anonymous chat room for self-harmers. Of course, she nearly deleted the whole account when she got sick to her back teeth of all the do-gooders trying to make the poor depressed people feel like life was happy and sweet and lovely. Urgh! But then one day she received a message that wasn't dripping in sweetness. It simply said;
To which Bella had replied;
From there the two girls, and Bella knew T was a girl as when questioned about it she had sent a picture of her voluptuous chest to Bella with the words Keep Breathing written in Sharpi across her breasts, became fast friends.
They spoke in detail about their struggles with self-harming and from there they made a pact that they would message each other on their Cut days to check the other was still alive and to either provide a distraction to stop the cutting or be a hand to pull the other out of the sea of shame and guilt that they would feel if the cutting did occur.
Since finding T, Bella had felt lighter, less alone. Sure she still cut, they both did, but she no longer felt the uncontrollable burning desire to cut every day. Progress at least.
Deciding that she needed to get out of the house, Bella dragged herself off the floor and got dressed for a run; a new hobby of hers suggested by T.
At first she was completely against it and refused to even try running but T messaged every day, what felt like hundreds of times, for two weeks until Bella agreed to give it ago. She even sent a video of her sneaker clad feet pounding the pavement as proof.
The first few times Bella swore she was dying and promised pain and torture to T via messages. But after a couple of weeks she began to enjoy her runs. She had even invested in a new iPod and running earphones and now she would run any time she needed to escape; like now.
After grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and leaving a note for Charlie, Bella headed out. She had no direction in mind and instead just chose to let her feet and the music guide her.
A/N Hello! This is a little trial chapter for a story I have had in mind for a while. If you like what you have read so far then leave me a review so I know to post more!