My first post! Woo! review
Bright red blood is everywhere. Blood, there's so much blood. I open my mouth to scream but nothing comes out. I hadn't meant to cut as deep as I had. I'd meant to teach myself a lesson. I had gotten a B on a history test today. A B. The Ivies don't take anything less than excellence, and that certainly isn't an eighty-nine percent. The puddle of blood in my sink and on the floor is growing in size and shade by the minute. I remove my hand from my wrist in search of a towel. No, I think. I can't use a towel, Mom will find it in the hamper. I rip a wad of toilet paper off of the roll, and force it to soak up the ever-present blood oozing from the clean, precise slice on my upper forearm.
It's never been this bad before. I'm starting to feel light-headed. I rip off more toilet paper and replace the burgundy wad with a fresh one. I think it's letting up so I grab more of my improvised gauze, wrap it around my wrist, and secure it with a safety pin. I then pick my belt up off the floor and use it as a tourniquet, tightening it above my elbow and punching a new whole through the cheap, thin leather.
I open up the medicine cabinet and search of aspirin. I don't dry-swallow two pills to dull the pain emanating from my arm, I take it because I don't know what else to do. Aspirin is supposed to fix everything. Maybe it will fix my heart. Maybe it will get me out of Buckhannon. Maybe, just maybe, it will make me perfect and everything can finally be okay. I won't have to admonish myself if I'm perfect, and no one else will either.
My makeshift gauze isn't leaking through. I start to clean, to do what I am perfect at: hiding any evidence of anything unhappy, anything different. I do it so well, pretend to be an all-American little girls with no opinions whatsoever. I get a wash cloth from underneath the sink and wet it. I'd already used the rest of my roll of toilet paper to mop up most of the blood, but it still needs wiped down. Since there's not much blood left, I will be able to rinse out my wash cloth and the blood won't stain it. Mom should be home anytime, and I don't want her to see me like this.
~Later that evening~
"Dinner's ready, Aubrye." Dad calls. "What do you want to drink?"
I must have fallen asleep while I was studying; the only time my dad talks to me is when Mom can't yell loud enough to get my attention or he's discussing one of my flaws. I'm so exhausted - I have no idea how much blood I lost.
"Water, please," I yell back. I look at my arm. The toilet paper has a few red splotches so I quickly re-gauze it and carefully pull on a sweater. They can't see my arm like this. I walk down the hall and into the dining room where my parents are already seated. I rush to sit.
"Would you like to say the blessing, Aubrye?" my father asks.
"Yes, sir," I reply and bow my head. "Dear Lord, thank you for the gifts you've blessed us with. Please bless this food we are about to eat, and thank you for sharing you bountiful creations with us. Please be with us this evening and throughout tomorrow as well. Amen."
"Nice job, honey," Mom whispers, patting my knee. Oh, no. She does this every time I screw up.
"You forgot to thank Him for protecting us today. I expect it to be perfected tomorrow." my dad scolds in the briskest of tones, telling me that he was not proud and expected me to never mess up like that again.
"Yes, sir," I answer, just barely above a whisper. And that's all I say the rest of the night. It doesn't bother me, for once. I hardly have enough strength to hold up my fork, let alone carry on a conversation.
Perfect. If I could just be perfect, everything would be okay. But I have to go and screw everything up. I will have to punish myself tomorrow, but not tonight. After dinner, I drag myself to my bed and fall asleep.
I have the most wonderful dream. I'm small again, and Dad and I are at the carnival. He buys me candy and popcorn and anything I want. We ride the Ferris wheel and look at all of the little people down on Earth. I imagine I am a bird, soaring high above the ground. Dad hugs me and tells me that he loves me. My spirits are roaring inside me and I feel as if I can conquer the world. I'm happier than I've been in a long time, smiling a crooked smile - minus a front tooth.
But then I wake up, and for a moment, I'm still i that world, where Dad loves me and I am perfect. That's when I come crashing beck down to reality and cry myself back to sleep.
But thanks a lot for being concerned. I know there are people out there who do have self-mutilation problems. It's a serious cause. That's why I wrote about it. Anyways . . . Thanks again for reviewing!