She ran up the stairs, giggling, face flushed.
Happiness had finally come to her after months of feeling either numb, anxious, or suicidal. She entered the room full of people with a bright smile. Normally she disliked being in large groups, but she felt so energetic. After saying hello to a couple of people, she found him standing on the balcony with a couple of his friends.
“Hey,” she grinned.
All of them smiled at her, except for him. Confused, she tilted her head and walked closer. His body faced away from her. Had he really held her earlier that morning, kissing her and smiling at her? What was wrong with him?
“How was your day?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Pretty relaxing. Didn’t do much.”
He still wouldn’t look at her. Her heart raced and she quickly looked to the stars about to be covered by the clouds, so that the guys wouldn’t see the hurt look on her face.
“I should get a drink,” she muttered, stepping back into the warm room.
He ignored her – abandoned her. She was so stupid to believe that someone would actually think she was worth their time. Only the attention whores and party junkies got love.
Reality hurt almost as much as a knife blade.
One of her friends came to her while she poured vodka into her glass of overly sweetened cranberry juice.
“Oh my God, it’s so obvious that you like Joey!” she laughed.
“Yeah. I don’t know if he likes you, but I’m sure he’d go home with you.”
She left her drink on the counter and fled the party. After being so careful, so bitter, she had given in and trusted another person to befriend her. She still got burned. Would all of the men she would ever meet be cruel? Was it so much to ask life for a friend that understood her, even a little?
She stopped to lean against a tree. Cold air and wet snow hurt her exposed arms and legs. She forgot her coat. A part of her longed for Joey to look for her, to bring her coat and walk her back home, where they would make tea and talk and maybe she would fall asleep with him holding her like she mattered.
She kicked the tree’s trunk several times, gritting her teeth.
Exhausted from the exertion, she stooped to her knees and rolled onto her back. She felt so empty that even the cold barely bothered her. She remembered the razor blade in her pocket, but she wasn’t going to do it outside.
There’s snow on your face
And your razor blade
The twilight is bruised
And there you lie
She ran home, energized by a terrifying cocktail of rage, self hatred, and sorrow. She burst in through her door and screamed into the darkness. Screaming, she beat her left arm with her right hand at first, and then started to blindly hit herself repeatedly. Even if someone heard her inhuman behaviour through the open door, they would surely just walk by.
She dropped to the hardwood floor, panting, trying to catch her breath. She vomited. Her arms and legs hurt so much.
It was time. She stood. Her shaking body brought her to the knife drawer in the kitchen. The largest knife appeared beautiful, magical with its blade glowing from the moonlight. Her sword. She picked it up and gently ran a finger along the blunt end.
Her sister’s face flashed across her mind. She swallowed hard. Then, a flood of memories collided with her resolve to slash her wrists.
She sunk to the floor. “Oh my God, oh my God.”
She threw the knife away and ran to the bathroom, almost unable to breathe.
“Don’t die, don’t die. Not yet,” she told herself.
Hold on to the world we all remember fighting for
There’s still strength left in us yet
Hold on to the world we all remember dying for
There’s still hope left in it yet
She washed her makeup-smeared face and walked to her room. She sat on her bed and opened her journal, turning to the page labelled “My Dreams and Goals.” Reading them over one by one, she covered her mouth and wept.
– Sara Kjeldsen