Tears dripped down Allie's face as she heard the crackly voice on the radio singing. Eyes fixed on the ceiling, Allie's soft alto voice blended with the melody emitted from the FM station. "I'm not a stranger, no I am yours. With crippled anger, and tears that still drip sore." The lump in her throat cut her off. She softly stroked the jagged scar along her arm, which had been hidden for so long by a number of long sleeved shirts. Under her bed, she knew, was a sharp knife waiting and ready to cut into her flesh. With the pain it also brought bliss. It seemed that as the blood flowed out, so did Allie's bottled up emotions. Her parents ignored the cries for help, her friends were deceived by the false smiles Allie painted across her face. It was something she kept to herself. Yet, she couldn't help hoping that someone would notice. She felt like she couldn't do anything right, no matter how she tried. She was failing four of her classes, she couldn't make the dance team, and she had lost her best friend to the abuse of their mother. Allie glanced across the room, to where two doors with windows stood. All it would take is a tug on the door, a climb over the rail, and a jump to end all the pain. But did Allie really want to go through with it? Was it worth her life to free herself from all this pain? Allie wasn't quite sure herself. As the last notes of the song faded out, Allie made up her mind. She clicked the radio off and crawled under her bed. She snatched the kitchen knife by the handle and shimmed back out from under the bed. She slowly but surely made her way to the door and flung it open to the cool spring breeze. Allie hesitated for a moment before stepping onto the balcony, clutching the knife as if it were the answers to all her problems. She held it from her at arms length, observing every curve of the polished metal. Suddenly, she chucked it over the railing. It hit her sister's car with a metallic clanking sound. Allie then proceeded to climb slowly over the railing that she had just thrown the knife over. Kept from falling by a tight grip on the side, Allie shivered a bit and shook her head, her sleek brown hair swaying from side to side. "I have to do this..." she whispered. Leaning forward as far as she could, she tightened her clammy hands around the rails. Allie shut her emerald eyes tight. It would only hurt for a bit. Then she would be at peace. Slowly, Allie slackened her grip on the railing and plummeted to her death awaiting her below. The air racing past her cheeks, drying her tears, was the last thing she felt before her lifeline was cut.
Relief exists I find it when...I am cut.
December 23, 2009