Forgiving

Chapter 12- Run!

Do it! Just do it! It'll help keep your mind off things. It's won't hurt to do it, again. Just do it! Go! Cut yourself. Do it!

No! I will not do it! I won't let these thoughts get to me! I have a daughter who is the light to my world. I have a boyfriend who keeps me happy and cheerful. I have friends who care for me and love me. I have a dad who would swim across the world to find me. I have people who look out for me and even though I going through all this pain. I know people have gone through worse or are going through worse.

If I cut myself the scars will only remind me of how stupid I was for hurting myself and others. Even when I think I will help keep the pain away, it won't. It will only cause more pain and destruction.

I put the scissors inside the cabinet and went back to bed not before changing into joggers and a long sleeve black shirt.

I don't know how I was so close to doing something so stupid. As long as I have Rosebelle, the light to my world, the reason I want to live, the reason I want to fight, the reason I'm still strong, I'm fine. She's the rose that keeps me alive.

So why did I feel bad and a little guilty?

When I woke up it was because Rosebelle was jumping on me. Instead of waking up in a happy and cheerful mood. I woke up with a sad, gloomy, guilty mood.

"Rose I don't want to play. Please get off." I say softly. She might've seen my painful sad expression, because she nodded and immediately got off of me. I felt bad for pushing her away, so I grabbed her and kissed her on the forehead.

"I love you." I whisper into her ear.

When I walked downstairs with Rosebelle in my arms I stayed silent. Not greeting anybody or at least giving them a small smile. It's was like I was there, but I wasn't there. I was there physically, but not spiritually.

"Hey Nichole." Logan greeted. I nodded as a way of saying 'hey' and sat Rosebelle on the toddler chair. Everybody was in the kitchen table eating their breakfast, except for the bodyguards who were outside the house.

As I was making my coffee I felt their eyes trained on me. Like they were waiting for me to explode or sob out hysterically.

Some part of me was yelling at me to tell them that I almost physically hurt myself and another part of me was telling me to stay quiet and not talk about it. Maybe that's what's keeping me guilty.

I battled whether I should tell or not. Ugh, who am I kidding. I might as well tell them. It's not like I actually did it.

"I almost cut myself." I say softly, but still loud enough for them to hear. I could practically here them stop chewing on their food. Forks and spoons clattered on the plates and I jumped at the sudden impact.

Tension could be felt in the air, leaving me to feel even worse than before.

"Come again?" My dad choked on his pancakes.

"I almost physically hurt myself." I said.

"Why?" He asks a little angry.

"I don't know. I wasn't thinking straight." I admitted.

"Did you do it?" He asks. I shake me head 'no'.

"Show me." He demands.

"Dad, I said I almost did, not that I did do it. Do you not trust me?" I ask offended. He ignored my question and gestured me to show me. When I didn't show him, he got up and walked towards me.