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Scars

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I grip the counter of the bathroom sink so hard my knuckles start to turn white. I bit my chapped lip so hard that I start to taste blood. Warm water trickles from my eyes and down my cheeks. Some land on the backs of my hands and others on the counter. I lift my head to take a good look at myself in the mirror. My eyes are bloodshot and my eyeliner has mixed with the tears and is smudged from my constantly wiping my eyes with my shirt sleeve. Another sob catches in my throat and more tears pour down my face. I release the counter and sit down on the side of the tub with my face buried in my hands. The pain in my chest is unbearable and I just can’t take it.

I wipe my eyes once more with my sleeve and wipe my nose with a tissue. I pick up the card that is lying on the floor. I read over the words on it over and over again, and then throw it back down on the floor. I’ve had those words burned into my brain after the first time I read it over an hour ago.

"Daniella Levington,
You are invited to join the wedding of Jonah Stevenson and Cecilia Everwood on July 15th, 2012."

It’s that line that haunts me the most. Jonah and Cecilia are to be married in a few weeks. I remember him telling me the day after he proposed; he had been so happy and so full of joy. I had put on my best fake smile and congratulated him. On the inside though, I was falling apart. Married. I just couldn’t believe it. My best friend and his girlfriend since his senior year in High School were getting married. Don’t get me wrong, Cecilia was the nicest girl you could ever meet, which made it that much harder to hate her.
Ever since seventh grade I have had a crush on Jonah. I don’t know how it happened, one minute he was my best friend and the next thing I know he was something more to me. Maybe I had finally realized how he was the person who really completed me. He was the only one who could cheer me up when I was down, he helped me stop cutting myself, he had the most amazing smile and beautiful green eyes hidden under his shaggy black hair, and he was the sweetest person ever. When he asked me out our freshman year of High School, I was so shocked and excited. We dated up until our junior year, where we had both agreed to just go back to being friends. I was upset, but I understood the reasons. Neither of us wanted to ruin the friendship we had, the bond that we shared. We talked very little over the next month, but we got over it and went back to how we were, though I still never got over my love for him. It was at the beginning of senior year when he met Cecilia, and I could tell by the way he looked at her that he had fallen head over heels for her.
I got up off of the edge of the tub and pushed up the sleeves of my shirt. My wrists and arms were covered with fresh scars. I looked around the bathroom for a razor but I couldn’t find any. My skin craved the contact with a sharp object. I met my reflection in the mirror. Dried eyeliner and tears covered my cheeks. The red in my eyes had faded a bit and my lower lip was bleeding.
“You’re pathetic.” I whispered hoarsely. Then my pale fist met the mirror and glass smashed and shattered into the sink and onto the floor. The knuckled were bleeding but I didn’t care about that. I found a good piece of glass with a nice, sharp edge and sat back down on the tub. I set the tip of the glass on a clean area of skin and slowly smoothed the point across my flesh. Red liquid flowed from the cut and I smiled wickedly at the sight. “Hello old friend.”
Blood ran down my arm and onto the tiles on the floor. Once I had made a decent amount of cuts I sat and watched the blood from the cuts and the wounds on my knuckles flow freely before cleaning them up. I didn’t bother cleaning the bathroom so I stood in the doorway and gazed in at my destruction and took one last glance at the card on the floor before turning off the light and closing the door.



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IonDeaThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. said...
Nov. 8, 2013 at 7:18 pm:
While I really did like the idea and intent for this story, I wasn't able to connect with it. As a former abuser of self-harm, from my experience I find it to be slightly different from what you've written here.   It's not a controled or even semi controled thing, it's almost like an intangible being that grips you and forces your thoughts and rationalization out of control. Up until the point where the character actualy harmed themself, it was very well written, and ext... (more »)
 
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