off the table

one

tw ⚠️

Ariana's pov

"You stupid bitch!" Pete grabbed me by my hair, "What the fuck did I tell you to do? Didn't I tell you to buy me some beer?"

"I-I don't want it to ruin our relationship, we're drifting apart. You're no longer the person I fell in love with, you're a completely different person."

"Do you think I fucking care?" he raised his voice at me, "I don't give a fuck about all those bullshit that's bothering you. You're nothing but a useless whore."

He raised his hand and I flinched and closed my eyes as I covered my face with my hands. It was too late. I felt a hard slap across my face. I whimpered as I felt the burning sensation on my cheek.

"What the fuck did I tell you about whimpering?" he yelled at me, "Stop being such an attention seeker. You're way too dramatic, no wonder your stupid ex killed himself, he's probably sick of all your drama."

That's it, I've had enough, he knew how sensitive I could get when it comes to Malcolm. I stormed off, but he managed to grab me by my arm.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" he shouted and I felt another slap across my face.

"Answer me, you whore!"

"I-"

"You know what? Save it! I don't give a fuck anymore," he spat, shoving me to the floor, causing me to fall down.

I ran into the bathroom and locked myself inside. I sobbed uncontrollably as I started to find it hard to breathe. My anxiety was starting to take over. I was shaking and sobbing as I curled up on the bathroom floor. Pete's right, it's my fault that Malcolm's no longer here. I shouldn't have left him when he needed me the most. I was just being overdramatic when I left him for his addiction, I should've helped him instead.

I felt my stomach turn and I crawled to help myself reach the toilet. I bent over and threw up. My anxiety would only cause me to throw up when it's really bad. Pete's words and actions pushed it to its worst point. My hands began to shake as I opened the drawers to reach for something I had been using a lot lately: a blade.

My lips quivered. I firmly held the blade close to my skin and sliced a cut on my wrist. I winced as I felt the stinging sensation and blood started to ooze out. I gave myself another slice, and another, and another, until I felt satisfied enough. I had been cutting myself for three months now, and no one knew about it. Punishing myself made me feel a lot better. At this point, both of my arms are covered in scars from my wrists up to my elbows. Those scars are ugly as fuck, but who cares, anyway? I'm already filled with imperfections. I'm too fat, my breasts are too small, I have scars and bruises everywhere, I'm nothing but a trainwreck.

I felt the stinging sensation increase as more blood oozed out. I felt a sense of relief. This stinging sensation from the cuts temporarily distracted me from reality. I curled up on the floor as I continued to sob and hyperventilate. I just need Malcolm to hold me in his arms, kiss me and tell me everything's gonna be alright. I miss him so much. He should've still be here. It's all my fault for leaving him.

***

later that week...

"Ariana, why aren't you finishing your food?" my mom asked. I'm currently at her house since she invited me over for dinner. Thank goodness Pete's not here, he's out with his friends.

"I'm not hungry," I mumbled.

"Isn't this your favorite food?"

"I know, I'm just not hungry," I lied. To be honest, I was feeling so hungry, but there's no way I'm eating that, I'm too fat. Besides, Pete had also made me starve myself the past few months because I look too disgusting. He's right, I look fat and disgusting.

"Ariana, can we talk after this?" my mom asked and I hesitantly nodded. She led me to her room upstairs.

"I understand that this might be a hard topic for you to talk about, but lately, I noticed that you had been acting weird," she started.

"W-what do you mean I'm acting weird?"

"I noticed that you're no longer your cheerful self. You're just really quiet and have been eating a lot less. Please, tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing, I'm just busy," I lied.

"You can tell me anything, I promise, I won't judge you, I'll help you," she insisted, but I shook my head. "Nothing's wrong, really."

"Ariana, I had known you for your whole life, I can tell when something's wrong."

"I-" before I could say anything, I broke down sobbing. She immediately held me in her arms as I sobbed onto her chest. Just then, I accidentally lifted the sleeves of my oversized sweatshirt. I quickly pulled it back down, but it was too late, she saw the scars and bruises on my arms.

"Ariana, have you been cutting yourself?" she frowned. "N-no."

"Then what's this?" she asked, rolling up my sleeves. I winced as I felt the cuts sting. Not all of them were fully healed yet.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," she said sympathetically.

"How long have you been doing this?" she asked. "T-three months."

"Here, let me treat them," she said, taking the first aid kit.

"It's gonna sting," she warned. I winced as I felt a stinging sensation when she cleaned the cuts with alcohol. She then applied some antiseptic cream and wrapped my arms with a bandage.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

"You're welcome, but why are you doing this to yourself?" she asked.

"I-" I once again broke down sobbing. At this point, she knew something was very wrong, but I couldn't tell her. Pete had threatened to kill me and my family. There's no way I'm letting that happen.