a hundred tears and more

♜

She lit the cigarette in her mouth. The sweet taste of tobacco filled her mouth and numbed her demons once again.
A tear rolled down her cheek.
She brushed it off as quickly as she could and blew the cigarette steam out of her mouth.
These were the signs... the signs that it was getting bad again. Automatically her hand brushed the sleeves of her blouse down.
Another tear rolling down her face.
A face that was marked by life, not only the face her whole body had scars and marks of self hatred, endless crying and enough visits to the toilet for the rest of her life.
When she looked back now it was much rather an existence than a life. Her last romance had been in university and the last honest kiss she got was even further back.
Another tear.
Her hand slipped into the pocket of her jeans and got out a razor blade.
The kind that's used in biology to dissect hearts or other body parts. A few more or less wouldn't be noticed at school, would they?
She placed the cigarette into the ashtray and slowly slid down the wall of the house.
Another tear.
They, now, were streaming down her face like a little stream.
Her hand was rolling up her right sleeve and the blade left another scar and another and a few more.
After she finished her arm was dripping with blood and on her face was a smile, a tiny one but it was visible.
Another tear.
She put out the cigarette and headed for the bathroom. She took of her blouse to wash the bloody arm. As hot water was running over it, she began to breathe heavily. A minute passed, she turned the water of and opened the mirror cabinet where she kept the dressing materials („Verbandszeug"). She wrapped the arm in a white muslin bandage, closed the cabinet and looked at her puffy face in the mirror.
Both arms leaning onto the sink her upper body came into mirror sight. Her cleavage had a thousand scars on it and her neck also was marked with two long scars, crossing in the front like a necklace.
It was ironic how many times she, a biology teacher with very good knowledge of the human anatomy, tried to end things but, in the end, didn't succeed even one attempt.
And it was ridiculous how many times she had been asked if she was doing alright and everyone seemed to be satisfied with the answer: „Sure, yeah... I'm alright."
Another tear.
She put her blouse on again, pulled down the sleeves and left the room.
I stayed, I stayed with her until the very last second.
I never broke the promise I gave to her as a child.
I never left...