Dipped in Strawberry

Family Ties

{Chapter 4 - Family Ties}

*Trigger Warning*

      I eventually walked back to the ranch, Lassie sat in the driveway, the sun growing pink, and red, and purple behind the mountains as the dark sky took over. Through the window the house was warm, Nova was setting the table, I could hear the dishes clicking in my head. Clink, click, clink. The front steps moaned as I climbed them, some of the porch's wood planks were loose and bendy when I stepped on them. The door handle was cold, and made my hand later smell like copper. When I walked in Aunt Chelsea was laughing about a horse that had escaped its stall and eaten all the carrots that Willis had picked from the far field this morning. He was steaming.

   "Paislee! We've been waiting on you!" Chelsea sang, grabbing a bowl of mashed potatoes soaked in melted butter. Too many calories, and anyways, my stomach wouldn't take food like that.

    "I'm not hungry, I'm just going to go to bed early tonight, tomorrow is my first actual day of work."

   My aunt's enthusiasm dropped, "Okay then Paislee, I'll put your plate in the fridge so you can have it later."

      I reached my room a few seconds later, it was eight thirty, according to my mother, much too late to be stuffing yourself with waste food. I never really have understood my relationship with my parents, my father was always off on business, he used to kiss me on the top of the head before he left, back then he had smelled like freshly printed paper. My mother was almost always home however, she spent every minute she wasn't sleeping on the courts perfecting her racket techniques. I don't remember seeing her more than twice without her signature racket, a sparkling red. And she never let me take a step out from behind her shadow. "Paislee, hold the racket this way, you'll never have a winning swing holding it like that," "Dear, you're only signed up for 3 sports, softball could improve your coordination," "And I thought I might have a child with some athletic ability." I'm not quite sure if the reason I favored my dad more was because he was nicer, or just was around less to find ways to judge. I ripped my bag off the bed and ran into the bathroom. 

     "I can't," I gritted my teeth, "I can't do this again." I was screaming through my teeth trying to stop myself, but it was a failed attempt. The razor was already in my hand. I pressed it into my skin as my teeth grinded against each other. I waited through the pain as it temporarily erased my memory. The pain. All that was there was the pain. Crimson drops began to appear, pushing themselves through the slits I had created in my thigh. They were parallel to every other. 'How could you _do_ this?' my mind screamed. But my body was relived, and the feeling was moving up my body. The pain melted away and was replaced with numbness. My breath slowed, and I sighed. This was the reason I was trapped in this never-ending cycle. Self-Hate → Self-Harm → Numb → Self-Hate and it repeats. I need to escape the pain without giving up. I cut a line into my arm.

      The words would repeat, and I would give up. I would give in. I would break. What ever you want to say.

     The only reason I was here was because I had gone too far. I had cut too deep, the numb turned to physical pain, and the bottle of pills couldn't stop it. I was lightheaded, I was falling, and I heard my head smack the wall. I could feel myself being drained. I was gone, I could feel it. I could feel the happiness and relief. That moment I was reaching for it, my fingers curling around it just as they dragged me back to hell. Back into the world. The happiness was gone and replaced with shrinks, the relief covered with pills. I was a ghost that walked the earth.

    My blood was dripping onto the floor and into the sink; I washed it out and started the shower. The heat adding to the numbness. It was the world of dreams, and I was floating through. I dropped my clothes next to the shower and stepped in, letting the pain and self-hate drip down my arm and down the drain. A red stream. A stream that saved me every day.

     "Hey Paislee, I'm sorry to bother you because I know you're tired but I need the extra towel out of the cabinet, it seems Nova used all the ones in our bathroom." It was Willis; I shut off the shower, wrapping myself in a towel. Thankfully the towel was red and concealed the blood that continued to come out of my cuts. I opened the door slightly passing him a purple towel that had been sitting in the cabinet. 

     "Thanks," he said taking the towel and walking out of the room.

    I closed the bathroom door and locked it. I dried off, bandaging the areas still bleeding and slipped into my pajamas. I grabbed the bleach and began scrubbing the blood that had fallen on the floor tiles. Did you know that if I was to mix the bleach with ammonia that I could fall asleep and die? I had once considered it even one night after cutting too deep, when my own blood had covered the floor. Of course, I was the only irrational person who thought this way. Because everyone else knows life is "a gift" and "incredible." But ghosts like me just float through. The bleach had cleaned all the tiles. I dried the floor and through away the paper towels I had used with the bleach. I slipped into my sheets and fell asleep.

    Bang. Bang. Bang. The sound of someone knocking on my door shook me awake. The sun was barely up, I didn’t have to be into work until at least ten. I pulled on a robe over my T-shirt, pajama pants combo and opened the door. And of course it was Willis, again.

   “Come on,” he whispered, “but be quiet. You don’t want to wake up the others.”

   “Willis,” my voice was groggy from sleep,”It’s too early.”  

    I would make the assumption he doesn’t take no for an answer because he picked me up out of the door way and carried me outside. “What are you?” I screamed, “A murderer!” He placed his hand over my mouth and put me in the passenger side of a truck.

   “Shush your face Paislee,” He said, I could hear the irritation in his voice, “Put your shoes on. We’re getting out.” He had pulled up to the barn I could see from my bedroom window. I slipped my shoes on and followed him cautiously inside. You don’t fight a crazy person who just happens to be a foot taller then you.

   “Look,” he was pointing to a stall. A horse was lying on the floor, a small foal stumbling around her. “I wanted you to be the first to see. Isn’t it beautiful?” The foal was chocolate brown, its mane black, with white freckles. It was the most beautiful thing I had seen in a while. It nestled itself into its mother as if they were hugging each other.

    “What do you think would be a good name?”

     It only took me a moment to grasp the name, “Cinnie. Her name should be Cinnie.”

     Cinnie was beautiful in Celtic. And that small foal was beautiful.

   “Sounds good, but can I talk to you outside of the barn for a moment?” I followed him outside and into the rising sun.

     He grabbed my wrist and I winced in pain, and before I knew what was happening he had lifted my sleeve and I could feel the cool wind on my scars. 

     “Paislee-“  

{Chapter 4.5 - A Message From Me }

As you read in the last chapter (which I was reluctant to post due to the fact it was so deep) this book is about some pretty serious stuff. I just wanted to let you guys know I'm always here no matter if you need to talk or are having a bad day. I'm always here. :) 

For those of you struggling with self harm I would check out these sites:

Recover Your Life

SI Support 

To Write Love On Her Arms

But please, talk to me. I'll always try my best to understand <3 No one deserves to live life suffering alone. 

What do you think about that last chapter!? What do you think Willis is going to say? Your guess is as good as mine! The next chapter won't be up until the weekend at least so make your predictions!