She couldn’t breathe. She suffocated really. Everything was tainted red, or black. It oscillated between the two. Her lungs didn’t pump enough oxygen. Her heart kept missing beats. Terrified. She was terrified. She was going to be trampled by the feelings.
There was only one way. She trembled… And pierced the skin. As blood pearled against the edge of the blade, some of the pain became physical. That she could deal with: that was more comfortable. She looked at her scarred arm. As blood flowed free, it purged her of the fear, the aggression, the anger, all feelings that terrified her. She had no idea how she could handle them. They were overwhelming, overpowering and only the process of hurting herself took the edge off.
She watched her blood leave her body washing away the emotional whirlwind. When it stopped, she cleaned it with fresh water. She wrapped the mark in a small bandage and pulled her long sleeve over it. She looked in the mirror: the distress was gone. But she still looked awfully pale. Some cold water would do the trick and a touch of blush. Yes it would work.
“Jess? Will you come down please? I need your help.”
Deep breath, it’ll be alright. Until next time it’ll be alright. She stepped down the stairs.
“There she is, my perfect child.”
Not perfect Mother, definitely not. She smiled to the Pastor.
“Your mother said you wanted to volunteer for the little event we have next week.”
No. She almost said it. She was almost strong enough. Then she wasn’t.
“Yes. I’d love to help.”
“Isn’t she great Father? Every other teenager would rather party and have sex but not my beautiful daughter. She knows what’s important.”
The Pastor scrutinized her for a moment longer than necessary. She smiled again. She was always stronger after she purged herself, but never enough to contradict her mother, or her father. Or her siblings for that matter. They depended on her. They needed her to be the strong one, the one who never falters, never loses her temper, never doubts. But she wasn’t and she did. But nobody saw it. They were too busy deciding what she should be, what her life should become. If she wasn’t accepted at that university in London, nothing would change. Maybe one day the blade would go too deep and she’d never have to worry about anything anymore.
I’m two days late, but then again my SO and I crossed the country twice in three days. France is nowhere near as big as Canada but 22 hours of driving in three days remains exhausting.