Tears streamed down her soft cheeks, as she slid the cold metal across her skin. The pain that shot through her was like electricity through a cord. Unbearable as it was, she knew she had to do it. It was the only way, the only way to let it out, to fix the pain, the only way to distract herself from the unbearable torture that lay within. The only way, to hide the feelings she kept inside.
She giggled, as she walked up he warm, light covered bricks to her door. She reached up to the door handle, and walked through the door, her sunflower-yellow dress swishing at her feet as she stepped. Her eyes opened wide as she saw her fathers smiling face.
"Daddy!", she sang. He picked her up, and swept her into his embrace. Her mother stood in the corner, a smile upon her face.
"I love you", he said.
"I love you too", she replied.
She brought up her other wrist, off the blood soaked carpet. Scars scattered across it. She brought the knife to her flesh, and tore it across her skin. Blood and tears soaked the carpet upon which she lay.
"Why do you do this to me? Why!" Screamed her mother. Tears streamed down her face.
"I didn't mean it!" She cried. "It wasn't my fault!"
Her mother stood in that same corner, but now, she seemed empty, as if her life had been sucked from her body.
"It wasn't you're fault?!" Her mother yelled. "It wasn't you're fault your pregnant?!"
A moment of silence passed, the only sound was the drip of her tears across the floor.
"Get out!" sobbed her mother. "Pack your things, leave!"
The girl fell into a heap across the floor. "Mum?" she cried.
Her mother did not answer.
If only her father was alive. If only she was not pregnant with a son. If only her mother loved her. She stared down at the knife that lay next to her, the blood soaked blade. How she hurt inside, how she dreaded hiding the pain that consumed her soul, how she wished her unborn son could have had a real mother. She cried, and the tears flowed until she could cry no more.
She wandered the lonely streets, lit by a single street lamp. Tears flooded her eyes, the pain didn't stop. She couldn't live like this. It was like her soul had been ripped from her, like she was no more, that a walking corpse.
Asleep, she fell, upon that blood soaked, tear stained carpet.
As she dreamt, words interrupted her slumber. Drugs, pain, child, help, breathe. She slipped in and out of consciousness, unaware of her surroundings, but only seeing bright lights.
As her eyes opened, her head felt heavy, and she leaned back against the white bed. A nurse walked in, surprised. Slowly, she realised she was in a hospital bed.
“Ahh!” She screamed as a wave of pain tormented her body, and shuddered as the pain subsided. A man, dressed in a white lab coat walked in, holding a large clear needle. He gestured for her to turn over, and she did so. Seconds later, she felt the needle push into her spine, and she passed out almost immediately.
She found home, in a lonely, cheap motel across the harbour. As she walked, the floor creaked, and spiders hid in the dark hallways. She couldn't bear to live, but could not bring herself to kill the innocent live within her. Regret tormented her body. She lived not a life, but a death.
She awoke, to hold a baby in her arms. A beautiful baby boy, her baby. She looked deep into his eyes, and he did not cry, instead, she saw a smile touch the corner of his lips.
A flame, burned within her at that moment. She felt almost as if she could start again. She could make a life for her son. A flicker of hope, had been lit within her soul.
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