Bound by Hearts

9. Forgotten Princess

You know it is useless.
You know what to do.
You know the only way the images go.

Then why do you hesitate.

"I am not hesitating." I speak softly. To no one in particular. I speak to the voices from the void in front of me.

It felt good when the blood of that man flowed out of you didn't it.
It felt good as you let it flow out drop by drop.

It did.

"If there is no blood left will there be anything to worry about?"

I asked myself.
Trying to convince myself that death isn't that bad of an option now is it?

You don't deserve anything.

"I don't do. Do I?" I said a half laugh left my lips while tears still rolled down my eyes.

"You weak shit. How many times have I told you. My son will not cry like a little bitch."

Crying doesn't make anyone weak.

Sometimes crying till your heart hurts is much better than keeping it in. But, now I knew. Not to show these tears to anyone. To not show any sort of weakness to anyone. To keep myself hidden.

Because that is where filth belongs.

And finally I look at the razor between my fingers again.

I take in a sharp breath. And place it near my ankle. I sink the blade in slowly at first and then push it in deeper looking at the blood ooze out. The pain almost mind numbing. I slowly dragged it along. Until there was enough red to fill the black hole around me.

That day as I had watched my father. That day when the sweetest day of my life turned into something that makes me resent my own self more than the existence of my father.

And, the relief I had felt with every moment the star pin had sunk deeper into my hand. With every drop of blood that left my body I felt my soul getting cleansed. I remember lasting a whole 127 minutes with an injured head and a pin stabbed into my palm.

I remember my father finishing in front of me.

I remember him scoffing and leaving the room with me still kneeling there in a state of shock. And as I felt that there was no more blood in my body.

As I felt pain filling me completely.
And the black hole swallowing me as I fell on the floor.

I felt a ray of light for an abrupt second and a soft smile flashing in front of my eyes as I lost consciousness.

I woke up in the hospital three days later.

And there my father had come up with such a great story to cover up why I in a pool of blood in his room.

And as he looked at me and the family looked at me asking if it was true. All I could do was give them a curt nod.

I hated lies.
I would never utter one.

Whatever my father was. I would be the thing he despises most.

I look at the blood filling the white Italian tiles. And as I turned on the shower the blood ran along the water thinning and then finally disappearing leaving the tiles traceless of it's existence.

I look at the blood stop flowing from the wound and a sense of displeasure passes through me.

Should have cut my thigh. It bled for a longer time.

I shake my head dismissing the thought out from my mind knowing very well that even if the ankle didn't hurt right now.

I knew very well that tomorrow as I pretended that nothing had happened and walked normally. It would hurt like a bitch with every time I put the weight of my body on my foot.