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I left the office silently, and without even looking at the girls in the next room, I went upstairs. For the first time in a long time, there was too much on my mind to handle. I started to feel light headed, angry, stressed. I could feel all my negative energy trying to get out. I was so unbelievably mad, so overwhelmed.
I collapsed on the floor, my head throbbing and empty at the same time, my stomach uneasy, my heart speeding. I realized what was going on. I had to get out. I shoved on my closest pair of shoes and ran. I went straight downstairs and out the door into the blistering cold storm without a second thought.
I just ran. I didn’t know how far, or how long, I just ran. My skin started to heat up, but I still felt the cold of my surroundings. I ran and I ran, until I felt like my lungs had a campfire in them. I was pretty sure I was far enough away from the house, or any house. I looked around me and all I saw was the white of the snow, and grey of the wind. I didn’t see much, so I sat on the cold show beneath my feet. My head still hurt as it spun, and my stomach was a battleground. With my skin heating, and my emotions bubbling, I knew exactly what was going on. I pressed my hands to the top of my head, and started to talk to myself. “Stay calm.” I would say. “Don’t freak out, don’t freak out!” I started screaming. I started panting, my breathing being cut off. My vision started to blur, and I easily fell over due to a lack of balance. Perfect. Not only was I on the verge of destroying an entire town, but I was suffering from being an alien thing!
“Calm down. Don’t freak out!” I reminded myself. I took a few deep breaths, trying to settle my nerves. I started to pick up snow and throw it as far as I could. Started gnawing on my arms and clothes, tearing little holes in the fabric, and leaving deep teeth marks on my skin. But it was painless. I couldn’t help myself when I started to claw at my wrists and the ground under me, leaving finger sized trails and drawing blood from my skin. But it was painless. I kept hurting myself, clawing at my wrists and chewing at my arms, while I managed not to feel a thing.
My skin boiling and the snow underneath me melting, I just sat there. My blood started to stain the still solid snow, and I was still without pain. I was in a puddle of ice cold water, and surrounded by snow and below zero temperature winds flew through my hair. I wasn’t cold. But my mind was still swarming, my thoughts were still too much for me. I was still stressed, angry, exhausted, I was dizzy and disoriented, my stomach hurt and I couldn’t tell if it was from stress or hunger. My vision was blurry and my mouth was dry. I felt like I was getting smaller, but the world around me stayed as it was.
I let go of the little control I had, and allowed my world to go black.
When my eyes opened, and I was aware of the world, I saw the damage I managed to cause. The snow completely stopped, and the asphalt of the road I stood on was not only exposed, but recolored. It went from weathered greyish black to pure sandy brown, the roughness of it no longer there under my bare skin. Snow was in random piles throughout my area, large mounds in and against trees and INSIDE homes. There were large drill like holes going through nearby trees, and piles of plywood and other house materials scattered throughout the area. Some were in pieces, some were shattered, and some were perfectly fine. Grass was ripped out of lawns, hedges were thrown across the streets, power lines were in half, telephone poles were literally down, and people were watching me. Their eyes were wide and terrified, they hid behind anything they could find, and they stared at me. There was a little girl who saw me and just burst out crying.
“No, no, no. it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” I tried to say to her. I went to go hold her and pick her up, but she ran closer to her mom and hid behind her.
What had I done?
I looked at my arms and wrists, which were still bleeding manically, the deep teeth marks bruised, red, purple and painful. Now it hurt. But now, I had more marks on myself. My pajama pants and shirt were torn, exposing my lower abdomen, and from my knees to feet. I had gashes climbing my legs and waist. The left shoulder of my shirt was torn too, showing nothing but heavy bleeding. I needed to get back to the house. I took my first step back to where I came from, only to have my weak knees give up, and let me collapse on the sandy blacktop, skinning my knee. I got back up and supported myself, and tried to take another step. This one hurt less, so I decided I’d limp back to the house.
When I opened the door, the grandfather clock by the door told me I had fifteen minutes to patch and clean myself up before being tested.
I ran upstairs before anyone would notice I just came back. In my room, I changed out of my clothes and into my jeans and a nice shirt. I threw the rags in the corner, and covered them with blankets. Before I slipped on my nice shirt though, I went to the bathroom and started to clean myself up. I started with my shoulder.
Cleaning the dry blood off my skin was simple. Seeing a gash the size of England wasn’t so simple. Patching it up was even harder. I wrapped my shoulder and upper arm in gauze, then tended to my bites and wrists. I ended up slashing both arms pretty severely, so I had a little trouble with cleaning my left wrist. I washed it out with warm water and hydrogen peroxide. Then I found a cotton ball, stretched it out the size of my cuts, and wrapped my wrists in more gauze, and around the bottom of my hands and thumbs for secureness. I repeated the process for my bleeding knee and calves. For my bite marks, I rinsed them in cold water and covered each one in two bandages. I purposefully put on a long sleeve shirt too big for me as to cover my bandages, and large baggy jeans to let my skin have a little room to breathe.
I limped back to my room and lay on the bed for five minutes while I waited for the hour to be up. I wish I could’ve fallen asleep. My body ached and my mind was empty. I was winded and tired, wanting nothing more but to lay on my bed for hours. But, to my displeasure, he let himself in right on time.