I was in the bath tub. Jordan was in it with me. He was holding me as the shower drenched our clothes. I watched the blood from my wrists slide down the drain. I was sobbing and Jordan was holding me from behind. This had happened a few times before.
Last time wasn't as bad. This time I went really deep but Jordan could sew me up because he is a nurse in training.
"Are you okay now?" Jordan asked as he held me.
I shook my head. He turned off the water and he helped me stand up. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around me and sat me on the edge of the tub.
"I'll be right back." He ran out.
I stared at my wrists. The deep wounds I caused myself. I looked down and traced over the other scars from previous times. Some large ones. Some small ones. At one point I carved names into myself but they were covered from the newer ones. Making my arms look like a complete mess.
Then Michael came to mind. I looked up from my wrists and at myself in the mirror.
He must be afraid of me now. He must think I'm a depressed freak that is crazy to want to see her parents again. He'll never want anything to do with me. He probably left by now.
I held my head down not wanting to see my reflection anymore.
What am I doing to myself?
Pushing everyone away just because I'm afraid to lose anyone. Now I have no one to lose.
Poor Michael... How did we get here?
"Here baby doll." Jordan came back with new clothes and his first aid kit.
"Get changed and I'll come back and stitch you up." he walked out and closed the door behind him.
I saw the clothes he chose for me. My sweatpants and long sleeve shirt.
I plied off my wet clothes. I squeezed the water out of them. Then threw them into the hamper.
Put on my dry clothes. First my pants. Then my shirt. I had to be careful just incase i smudge the blood anywhere.
I slowly pulled the shirt over my arms and over my head. Roiled up my sleeves and looked in the mirror.
My hair was wavy and blond.
It sorta suited me. I grabbed my glasses and walked out.
I walked down the hall and saw Michael sitting on the couch talking to Jordan.
I stopped before they can see me.
"She is fine just shaken up. She had a rough day." Jordan spoke softly like he did with me.
"How bad is it?" Michael asked with a crack.
"Pretty bad but I gotta go and clean her up so stay. Don't go." He got up and I ran softly to the bathroom and sat onto the toilet.
Jordan walked in.
"How are you feeling?" He kneeled down to eye level.
"I'm fine." I smiled softly.
"Good." he smiled.
He got up and went to the first aid kit.
"Will it hurt?" I was curious. I never had stitches before.
"It will fell just like a tiny pinch." He smiled and went back into the bag.
He pulled out thread and a needle and rubbing alcohol.
"We have to clean it first." I walked out of the bathroom again.
I looked over at the counter and saw the needle. I never really liked needles.
I cringed at the shiny needle.
I looked back at the door when Jordan came back with 2 short stools.
"Why two?" I asked.
Then Michael walked in.
YOU ARE READING
The Girl With Purple Hair [M.C.]Random
Lizabeth Coulain. An outcast no one knows. Michael Clifford. A rebel no one forgets. TRIGGERING!: SELF HARM BULLYING ETC. DO NOT TAKE MY STORY SERIOUSLY! I LOVE YOU