Young Writers Society

All I could feel at that moment was the immobilizing fear and shame that resonated deep within my bones. I could feel it pulsating in my ears, overcoming the drone silence. I was afraid of the silence, of its eerie ringing that whispers something is coming. Of the fear, I welcomed it with open arms, though painful as I knew its embrace would become.

******

Naomi closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She sat on the bathroom floor, alone in her house. This time, there was no one to stop her. Lifting her shaking hand, she gazed at the silver blade. She asked herself if she really wanted to do this, and her answer was an immediate yes. She was exited when the sharp pain laced up her arm, though guilt immediately intruded upon her moment of relief.

Finally, she had found a way to dull the pain. The abandonment Naomi felt from her father leaving, her shame at the way her emotions flew out of control, and the part she played in deteriorating Daniel’s love for her. It was making her go crazy. And now, she was free. She would turn to this…this cutting, to have relief. Even though Naomi understood this was not the right thing to do, the urge was too great. She had to, or else she would end up risking something far worse, far guiltier, and far more permanent.

As her own blood dripped into the sink, Naomi heard the thing she most dreaded. A car pulling into the driveway, long before it was supposed to. If her mother and brother found out what she was doing, she would be sent away, to a mental hospital. They would never be proud of her, like she so wanted them to be.

And her father would surely never return. But until that happened, Naomi could grasp the thin hope that he would come home. That he would wrap his arms around her once more. That he would kiss her on the forehead again, laugh by her side. That he would walk through that door, smiling, still in love with his wife and children.

Somewhere in her heart, Naomi knew that would never happen, but she still risked the hope. As Emily Dickinson had once written, hope is a thing with feathers. What then would happen if Naomi’s hope lost its wings?

Rushing to bandage herself, she heard the door creak open and her mother shuffle inside the house. After washing the blood, hiding her razor, and throwing on a long-sleeved shirt, Naomi went to greet her family. At the last moment, she pasted a fake smile on her lips, and a convincing aura of glee to hide her inward shame and pain.

“Hey, how was the interview?” Naomi asked, her brother having gone to an interview at the apple electronics store in the mall.

“He got the job!” her mother grinned, hugging her son with pride.

She was stout, and her hair was a beautiful dirty blond that had been passed down to her son, but not Naomi. Naomi had been stuck with her fathers boring as hell brown hair. On the other hand, her brother Damon was tall and handsome, his aura very innocent. He was three years older than Naomi, being nineteen, and on his way to high school graduation and collage. Naomi didn’t know what she would do once he was gone. She praised him like a God, him being the only person she felt she could talk to. Which is why it hurt so bad that Naomi knew she could not tell him the truth.

And as Naomi stood there, she realized, this would be the first secret she would ever keep from the brother she adored. One secret would lead to another, and even though Naomi dreaded what she would become, she knew there was no way she could stop it.