It's Friday, 8:31 AM, 22nd of October, 2011. I wake up to Benji pouncing on my stomach. I scratch his head, feeling his soft fur between my shaky, cold fingers. I don't remember shutting off the lights last night. I sit up, trying not to go too fast so I don't feel too dizzy. I lean against my dusty woven headboard, holding Benji in my arms. His tail keeps brushing my face. I itch my nose, trying not to sneeze. Benji's my lifeline. I couldn't live without him.
That's why I'm going to give him away.
I look down at my fur covered hoodie. I hadn't changed into a different outfit for when I went to bed. I didn't really mind. I look up at the time. 8:46. I proceed to stand up, shuffling my feet along the wooden floor. I tiptoe to the kitchen, and decide to treat myself with some breakfast. I set Benji down, and he starts rubbing against my lower shin. I check the cabinet, and find a box of Cheerios, unopened. I take them down, and grab a small, plastic bowl as well. I don't feel hungry.
I put the bowl and Cheerios away, and I take out Benji's little food bowl. His name is fading away. I set it down in front of him, and I find his wet food from the cabinet. I pull the tab, and scoop some of it out. I don't know how I'm not used to the smell yet. I taste something, something subtle. I move my tongue around in my mouth, trying to distinguish what this familiar taste is.
Blood. It tastes like blood.
I get up, looking down at Benji, and I walk back to my room, trying not to let my heels touch the floor. Getting to my bed, I sit down and reach into my drawer next to my bedside. Rummaging through my countless useless objects, I find it. The box cutter. I then roll up my sleeve, and take a deep breath.
Slice, slice, slice.
I didn't feel anything. The red, shiny blood drips down my wrist, reaching the wooden floors one at a time, like little raindrops. Pitter patter. Pitter patter. I do it again, in hopes I'll feel something once again. I've gone numb. My forearm is all covered in scars, scabs, and fresh wounds. The crimson liquid reflects the light from the window, the sun barely shining through the cracks of the grey clouds. I press down as hard as I can into my arm, and swipe once again. I look inside the cut, and all I see is white. The blood makes its way out into the cut, and I watch what looked like styrofoam turn into a beautiful red, that of roses.
The blood flows down my arm and onto my palm, then to my fingers, like red wax melting from my candle. I put the box cutter on my desk, and wipe the blood off of my pale skin. I get up, trying not to get dizzy in the process, and I walk to the bathroom, cupping my hand underneath the warm red "candle-wax." Standing in front of the sink, I turn on the faucet, and run my hand under the cold water. I wince at the slight stinging, but I brush it off. I turn the tap off, grab the hand towel, and dry my wounds.
I walk out of the bathroom, and to my closet. I reach to the top shelf, and find my white self adhesive bandages. Thank God they're still here. I slowly start wrapping the bandages around my wrist, the blood soaking through a little bit. I cut the bandage off from the roll, and stick it to the bottom of where I wrapped it. My arm tingles. Maybe I wrapped it a little too tight. I look at the time. 9:21. The day had only just begun, and I already want it to be over.
I lay back down on the bed, curling up into a little ball on my sheets. The mattress squeaks as I out all my weight down onto the bed. Light as a feather, stiff as a board. I lay in fetal position, not moving a muscle. Breathing steady, feeling neutral. Feeling numb. Feeling empty.
✧author note: here's a little continuation of where i left off! check my recent announcement for more details on why it's taking me so long to get these chapters done ^^
