All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
They both stared at the cuts on my arms that I had burdened myself with. It was a mistake that Josh and Andrew saw my own anger that I issued upon myself. They had always knocked when they entered my room, but this time, they caught me in the act of cutting myself. I had just gotten in a fight with my mother. How else am I supposed to deal with my anger?
The expressions on Josh’s and Andrew’s faces were painted with colors of perplexity. I was paralyzed, embarrassed at my weakness and addiction of cutting.
“Samantha…” Josh’s voice trailed away as he spoke my name. I laid the blood-drenched scissors on the floor and covered my arms with my sleeves. Pain was my addiction. Not drugs…
“Can’t you ever knock!” I yelled, even though it was quit the contrary. Andrew was unable to speak me name, maybe even disgusted.
“What…what are you doing?” Andrew’s obvious question was just for him to get me to confirm my action of cutting, my addiction.
“What does it look like I’m doing, Andy? Cutting myself?” I laughed, even though there was no hilarity in my words, nor my arms. My sleeve was wet with blood as it seeped through my clothing.
“Why?” the monosyllable word was the question that was most difficult to broach.
“Why?” I repeated the question as I stood. “Because…because…”
No matter how hard I looked for an answer to the question, I couldn’t find one. Why was I hurting myself? My mother? Yes, that was the answer. Even as I thought that, I knew it was foolish.
Tears started to chase one another down my cheeks. My hands acted as windshield wipers as I dried them away. The comfort embrace that Andrew issued upon me only made me weep uncontrollably.
Josh was next to embrace me, as his warm hand felt alongside my face, rubbing my cheeks with his soft thumb. I grabbed his hand and held it to my face. My affection towards Joshua was more then a friend. His handsome face with his crooked smile, his bushy eye brows, soft silk brown hair and his thin lips…
My tears were waterfalls that cascaded over his hand as he felt my face. I had never wanted to kiss him more then I did now.
“When you hurt yourself, Sam,” Josh spoke, his words feeding my insides, “you hurt me also. “
I cried even harder as I rested my head on his shoulder.
“Mom never tells me she loves me. What is wrong with me? Why doesn’t she love me?” I spoke my thoughts that I had always pondered. What is wrong with me? Why doesn’t she love me?
Josh hushed my sobbing with a touch of his lips against mine.
My older brother, Andrew, watched in silence.
“She does love you,” Josh said, after his lips were removed from mine. “And so do we.” He referred to himself and my brother. Andrew had never experienced the obstacles I had to perceive and accomplish. He was always with dad, that was part of the agreement. Father couldn’t take both of us for the divorce, so there could have only been one… and that was my burden, my mother.
“How could you do this to yourself?” Josh asked, and I was ashamed of myself.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I couldn’t help it-” My voice cracked as I choked on my tears. Josh’s firm hands held my arms as we stood face to face. “You only see my mother so often, Joshua. Andy,” I didn’t even turn to face my brother, I was to sheepish. “I never could tell you. If I did, then mom would just hate me more. She’s always drinking and coming home late or drinking inside the house. She yells louder then anyone I know, and her words aren’t the nicest ones.”
“You could’ve told me without having to cut yourself, it would make it a whole lot better.” Andy looked mad, though his anger seemed not towards me, but our mother instead.
“It seemed like the only solution…at the time.” I explained, as Joshua wiped my tears away and hugged me again.
“Samantha come on, your coming with dad and I.” my brother said, his height overpowering mine. He led Josh and I to the exit of the house. Josh still held his grip upon my arms, and I liked nothing better then this moment. I was going to dad’s, and I had the boy I admired holding on to me, he really did care for me.
We were almost out the door, before I heard my mother’s screaming.
“Samafa! I told yous not to go do nothin’ today!” I turned around to face my drunk mother, Josh still holding on to my shoulders. Andrew walked presumptuously up to our mother and examined her with a face of disgust written upon his face.
“Samantha is going over her father’s! And she is going to stay there because our mother is a drunk old-”
My brother was slapped in the face. I extinguished a cry of no, and I tried to walk over to my brother, but the grip Josh had on me was too strong.
“Andy!” Josh cried out for his friend.
Andrew turned away from his mother and walked out the door with a handprint on his face. I was next to leave, but the words of my mother stopped me in my tracks.
“Please Sam! Don’ go!” My mother cried, as I turned around to see her weeping. “I need you!”
I removed Josh’s grip and told him to wait for me. He stayed inside the house to help me if needed. My mother thought as though I wasn’t going to leave after all, but she was quit mistaken.
“You need a daughter, I need a mother, but I guess we all have to make sacrifices, even if it is for ourselves.” I said.
“I have been a mother to you, Samanfa! Don’ you dare suspect me of-”
I had dreamed of this moment, when I finally lifted my sleeves and showed her my cuts on my arms. “Look at what you made me do. I can’t live with you anymore. Alls you do is hurt me and you make me hurt myself. I can’t do this, anymore, m-” It was so hard to say mom, because I couldn’t even consider her one. I looked away from her, shaking my head in a disgusted gesture. “Good bye.” I left my mother’s screaming and turned to Joshua, his hand already upon my shoulder. I left my mother there, just like she had left me so many times in the past. That was the last time I saw her. I couldn’t even go to court, I didn’t want to see my mother’s face. I lived with my father and Andy, and very often did Josh come to see me. My scars I still have, and I will always have the burden of them just like the memories I will have of my mother.