Save My Life

Reflection

Caitlyn's hand is feeling blindly under her bed, her arm and hand's being covered in dust and soot from being on a place that has never seen the light of a vacume cleaner. Her hand finally comes in contact with the blade she flicks it towards herself and pulls it out. Tears still clouding her vision she brings the blade closer to her wrist. She goes to cut but she can't, she physically can't. Her mind is screming out for her to do it, do it to end her pain. Because the physical pain is easier to deal with than the emotional.

She still can't, she tries for so long to get her body to comply but her hand is there, just hovering above her arm, frozen in time. She gives up, she drops the knife onto her carpet and slides it back under her bed. There's something or someone in her life that's made her not want to. Someone has given her something that Mark couldn't, a reason to stop.

Was it Bree or Brent? Or a combination. She doesn't care, it was someone. Her mind comes out of that train of thought and back to her current crisis. Brent is probablly at the movies now, waiting for her, as bad as that makes her feel there's stll 1% of her that thinks maybe it's good that her parents won't let her go, maybe Brent mightn't have shown up too. She knows these are lies, she knows he planned to definately come, but sugar coating it all makes the guilt diminish. 

Her head is throbing from the crying. She rises from the floor and goes out into the hall to go into the bathroom. She can hear her parents arguing. So their moment of happiness and bliss lasted all of an hour? Maybe it was her, maybe she was the reason they argue, she did seem like the common denominator. She locks the bathroom door behind her, her head feeling even worse than before she takes some asprin washing it down by putting her mouth up to the tap, charming.

She goes over to the window and opens it, a flush of cool air riding into the small tiled room. She lays on the floor defeated. Her forehead leaning against the cool stone of the floor sweat dripping from her. It wasn't this hot before was it? She thinks she's coming down with something. Probablly that guilt sickness everyone mentions. Where after you do something awful you start to feel sick knowing what you've done to others. Yeah, that seemd like the plausable explanation for it.

A soft tapping on the door knocks Caitlyn out of her daze "Caitlyn I am so sorry about before, but you know how important family time is now since I haven't seen you in a week" Cailtyn chooses not to reply to her mothers statement. A minutes more silence, Cailtyn can tell her mother is standing outside her door waiting for an answer that isn't coming. "So what's been going on since we were away her?" Her mom asks her. 

Let's see. She cut herself, she found out Mark got a boyfriend. She almost tried to kill herself, she fainted in class, Bree is her friend again and she has more friends, Mark isn't her friend, she's relaised she doesn't even like Mark. She's standing someone up for a date and she realised she doesn't need to self harm anymore, so nothing that would matter to her mother?

Caitlyn doesn't bother dignifying Jane with and answer. She decides to call her Jane because she can't be her mother, mothers are supposed to care and look after their children not leave them for a week then prevent them from even talking to their new friends. No, Jane was not her mother, she was her supporter. She supported her financially, but that's about it, to Caitlyn she has not parents just bioligicallly related beings that finacially support her, that really puts an objective spin on the matter of them leaving.

By putting in a perspective that leaves her less emotionally attached the idea of her parents leaving hurts less, after all, strangers leaving is better than your family. After more silence she can hear her mothers footsteps as she walks away, she lost, or gave up, Cailtyn likes to belive it's the former. She slowly sits up hand shaking, her body feels fragile and cold inside, but on the outside she's like a furnace. It's a struggle to sit up but she manages. 

She peels off her sweaty clothes and turns on the shower, cathcing a glimpse of herself in the mirror, new tears forming. She felt pathetic, she seems to be crying at every little thing lately. She whips her head back to the shower and steps in. The tears now mixing with the water frm the shower. The cool water giving her sweet relief of her personal heat wave.

Getting the image of herself out her head is hard, it hurts to look like her, maybe if she stopped eating or starting throwing it back up she would be pretty. She scoffs at the idea, she could have the nicest body in the world but she would never be pretty, prettiness lies within the face, and she was definately lacking that. She can't tell if she's crying anymore or if it's the water. She turns off the shower and reaches for a towel. Wrapping it around her dripping body she walks into her room, avoiding any reflective surfaces.

She gets changed into her PJs and slips into bed, her pillow is wet from her hair, but she suspects some of it's tears, another night crying herself to sleep, unsurprising to say the least. She doesn't want to go to sleep, she doesn't want this night to end, making tomorrow happen sooner than it needs too, she can't bare Brent's or anyone elses reactions, but sleep overcomes her, crying and guilt sickness really takes it out of someone.