Scars Upon My Heart

Chapter 1

⚠️TRIGGER WARNING:

This scene contains self harm! I do apologise in advance if this triggers anything for anyone. Self harming is a serious and sensitive issue and thus should be treated as such. Thank you once and once again, I do apologise.

*Unedited*
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~Slit your wrists and cut your thighs. Fake a smile and dry your eyes. Hate yourself and hate your life. Welcome to my world of lies~

Chapter 1:

I stared at the vanity mirror before me. With voluminous, platinum blonde hair reaching down to her waist, azure coloured eyes and thick, cupid bowed lips, the angel of a girl gazing back at me was the epitome of purity and innocence. We may have shared the same features but she was a stranger in my eyes. I wan't pure, neither was I innocent. 

Slowly I turned away, disgust marring my face. 

Picking up the razor, I silently rinsed the blood off of it before shoving it into the cabinet below, in between the folds of a large fluffy towel. Not that anyone ever would find it. Privacy was the one thing I had requested coming here and privacy is what they had given me. I assessed the freshly made wound painted on my skin, marvelling at the sheer beauty it possessed. The sting intensified while the velvet drops of ruby red trickled down my porcelain wrist. I could only close my eyes and hum in sheer bliss, as the bitterness it brought cascaded down my throat. And then...

Numbness. 

This moment could only been described as euphoric. Truly and utterly euphoric. If I could have stayed here all day then I would have gladly, happy to continue to tear my skin cells raw just for the few seconds of the empty numbness it brought. However, it wasn't meant to be. In less than twenty minutes I would have to leave to attend my school. My new school. Sighing impassively, I abruptly stood up and quickly re-wrapped the gauze tightly around my wrist, pulling my sleeve down. I had so stupidly spent a longer than I should've in the bathroom all because I had gotten carried away.  

"Fall hurry the fuck up, your breakfast is getting cold!" Adam's gruff voice belted from downstairs.  

A dull smack resonated which was followed by the sound of Adam's muffled yelping. Sighing once more, I walked out of my room and down the grand oak stairs. My aunt's (and I use the term loosely seeing as we were not blood related) home was extravagant beyond belief. Pristine glass chandeliers hung in every hallway and room (including each of the five bedrooms), with endless large fur rugs covering the shiny marble floors. This home should have reeked of cold elegance and grandeur, yet the people residing in it made it anything but.  

Stacey, my aunt, was one of the most warmest people you would ever have the pleasure of meeting, the crinkles on the outer corners of her eyes and her laugh lines permanent evidence of her constant happiness. Even though she was older than my parents by a couple of years, she was still breathtakingly stunning, her personality only adding to her beauty. She lived here with Philip, her husband and my "uncle" who equally shared her kindness and happiness. They had two children; Adam who inherited his mother's chestnut brown hair and bronze coloured eyes and his sister Candice who took after her father with her camel coloured waves and hazel eyes. Their family were as gorgeous as they were caring, which showed in their home. For every crystal silverware, there was picture frame. For every expensive vase, there was a priceless drawing Adam or Candice had made when they were kids. 

Even though this house was as huge as it was luxurious, it was nothing compared to the house across the street. Now that could have been classed as a mansion.