Everything I'm Not ~ Solangelo

Chapter 33

I finished putting on my clothes and kissed Will goodbye. I stepped out of the car and entered the house. Just as I expected, the house was dark and dreary. The only source of light was the silver moonlight slanting through the windows. It reflected off the glass of the framed photos hanging on the walls, making pictures of happier times suddenly seem sinister. The house was completely silent except for the sound of my footsteps on echoing through the halls. I turned on a few lights, but it didn't do much good. The house was still a place of painful memories. Memories of Bianca. Memories of Mom. Memories of Dad. Memories of Marie. And now, memories of Hazel. 

There are things you can do, the voices said. Remember when Bianca was dying? Remember the knives? Remember the way they cut into your skin, relieving the pain? Remember how good it felt?

"No," I said. "I'm not going to listen to you!"

Oh, yes you are, they taunted. Cold, sharp metal digging into your skin.

"Leave!" I cried. 

Making you forget the world.

"Go!"

Watching the blood trickle down your arm.

"I won't do it!"

Oh, yes you will. No matter what you tell yourself, we have total control over you. You can't resist us.

Suddenly, I felt my legs lifting the rest of my body up and carrying me forward. I desperately tried to stop them, but it was as if something else was controlling me. I finally gave up, and allowed my legs to move me towards the counter.

Very good, the voices cooed. Yes, yes, continue.

I drew a knife from the kitchen drawer. I rolled my sleeve up, revealing my bare, pale wrist. I could see the veins in my arm. So vulnerable. My mind forced me to press the knife to my skin. In a few quick motions, I had made several cuts in my arm. 

Yes! the voices cheered. 

I watched as the blood poured from the fresh cuts. Drops of deep red flowing from the wounds on my arm. I lowered the knife once more, preparing to make another cut, but then, I stopped. I thought of Hazel telling me to fight as she lay on what could be her deathbed. I thought of Bianca holding my hand in elementary school as she stood up to the older kids who used to tease me. I thought of Will looking into my eyes and telling me he believed in me. No. I had to stop. I had to stop for them. I released the knife and it struck the kitchen floor with a loud clang. 

No! the voices cried, You can't do this!

"Yes I can," I said firmly. 

Stop! Pick up the knife! You must! they pleaded. 

I glanced at the knife, laying on the floor at my feet. "No," I repeated. "I will not listen to you. You have no power over me. I am no longer a prisoner in my own mind."

The voices let out one last demonic cry before fading. I stood there for a moment, listening to the silence of the house. Acknowledging the absence of the voices. The voices who I would never hear again.