~Chapter 3~

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**Mention of death, self harm, and abuse**

The last week has flown by. I guess that is my fault though as I have spent the majority of it curled up in bed, sobbing. I don't know why I'm crying, why I'm depressed but it won't go away.

I walk out of the bathroom in my towel, scrunching my hair in an old t shirt, I sit down at my desk in front of my mirror and begin surveying the small white scars on my arms, running my fingers over them as my thoughts start dissolving into a big mess.

—8 years ago—

I sit in my bedroom, colouring and listening to Fall Out Boy's new album, when I hear my mom scream downstairs. I leap up and run down to see what happened. My mom is in the kitchen, her broken phone shattered over the floor, "mom what's wrong are you okay?!". She just trembles and shakes her head. "Your dad" is all she mumbles out in her shaky voice. "Dad? What about him?! Is he okay?" She sobs again and manages to blurt out "He got into a car crash, he's dead". Then suddenly, it feels like my world goes quiet and I can't see anything. I don't cry. I don't scream. I hug my mom and she grips onto me while still sobbing.
After some time of her holding me and crying, I tap her arm and bring her to the sofa, call Auntie Kam and leave them to talk. I go up to my room and sink into my blankets but I still don't cry, I just feel numb.

My mom has gotten more angry day by day, she has started drinking and takes her anger about dad's death out on me. The house is falling apart and there are bottles and cigarettes everywhere. I finish my homework and go downstairs to get some chocolate, I walk into the kitchen but I can feel my mom's cold stare burning into the back of my head. "What are you doing in there Madeline." She says with a harsh tone. "Just getting some food" I reply bluntly, knowing that I will probably get in trouble for that. "Are you not going to ask first?" She glares at me and I shrug. "Don't shrug at me girl!" She raises her voice and marches over the kitchen to me, grabbing my wrist. "This isn't your house, don't walk around grabbing things like you just own the place!" She screams while pointing at my face. My eyes begin to water and my bottom lip begins to tremble as she just berates me even more.
All of a sudden, I feel a sharp sting across my cheek as I look up at her. She slapped me hard, so hard that it broke the skin on my cheekbone. I run away, up to my room and thankfully she doesn't follow.

Over the next few weeks, I blame myself for everything- my mom drinking, her hitting me and my bad grades at school.
I sit on my bed at some time close to midnight, hot tears roll down my pink cheeks, my mom slapped me again and really bad this time. All I'm thinking is why is she doing this to me? I open my bottom drawer of my bedside table, grabbing my pencil case and pull out my sharpener, removing the blade. I take the cold metal to my upper arm and just go for it. Shit. This is going to be me now I guess.

Encapsulated in this nightmare of pain, both mental and physical, the sweet feeling of metal against my skin was my only escape.

—Present Day—

I still feel myself trapped in that world, every night I have to stop myself reaching for that same pencil case that I used when I was 11. Now 19, I always think that I've changed but I know that I haven't really, I still take the cold blade to my skin late at night without an inch of regret.

These days, I am decorated with icy white scars, sunken and raised, I hate them. They remind me of my deepest, darkest thoughts and my trauma that creeps up on me when I least expect it. But I can't stop doing it. It's only really hit me now, it's a problem, I'm addicted, but I can't change.

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~A/N~

Hii, I don't really like this chapter that much, especially how it's laid out but I guess it's okay because the story needs to move along :))

Please lmk how you're finding it so far <3

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