Stuck in the Spotlight

Chapter 14: Weak, Nothing, Worthless

Charlie's POV

It's not that easy. The hate, the never being left alone, the never ending attention and blinding lights. It's all to much. I promised myself I wouldn't slip. I guess I'm not good at keeping promises.

Just 1 month until he's home. You can make it. Stay strong Charlie. Stay strong for him. Stay strong for yourself.

I sighed and stripped down to nothing, throwing my dirty clothes in the hamper. I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself. I looked away quickly.

What have you let yourself become?

You've let yourself become nothing.

I turned my iPhone on shuffle and music started playing.

I gripped the Swiss Army knife, running my fingers over the blade gingerly. I set the knife by the edge of the bath tub and filled it up. I looked at my left palm and traced the jagged scars, the first cut I did 3 weeks ago spelled out 'nothing' then I looked at my index finger and traced over 'worthless' with my right index finger.

I climbed in to the warm water and relaxed my head against the back of the tub, still tracing over the words carved in to my skin.

I picked up the Army knife and pressed the blade against my left wrist.

What are you doing? You have a whole life ahead of you, and you're just going to ruin it because of rumors. Don't let them win. Harry will be home in 1 month. It'll all get better. Charlie, don't ruin your life.

I pressed the knife deeper in to my skin, puncturing and drawing blood. I slowly carved a 'W' I winced and dug it in deeper, yet not deep enough to cut the tendons, just enough that I would have it the rest of my life to remind me how weak I am. I carved an 'E' and closed my eyes tightly, a few tears leaking through. Blood dripped from the blade and the cuts. I finished carving an 'A' and 'K' and dropped the knife. A cold, metallic sound echoing as the blade hit the tile.

The pain of the knife was unbearable the first time. Now I don't feel a thing. But the pain the first time, it was a satisfactory pain. The way the knife punctured through my skin. The little popping sound you had to listen very carefully for. The pain temporarily taking away from life's pain.

I ran my fingers across it, smearing blood. I looked at down at the red-tinged water I was sitting in and dunked my wrist under water and pulled it up, admiring my work. I gently touched the raw, pink skin.

They always say what doesn't kill you makes you a stronger person. If that's true, why am I sitting in bloody water, cutting 'weak' into my arm?

The house phone started to ring, I stood up and walked in to the kitchen and picked it up.

"Hello?" No answer.

I walked back in to the bathroom and climbed in to the tub. I looked at my arm and the blood was still dripping. Shit, I'd have to clean it up in the living room.

What have you done to yourself? Look at you, you're skin and bones!

I looked down at my stomach and lost it, tears spilling down my cheeks. It's not that I think I'm fat, it's just I can't eat. I try but I really can't. I picked the knife back up and stared at the dark, crusty blood on it.

I pressed it against my upper thigh and punctured my skin. I dragged the knife back and forth, angrily slashing my leg like it was chicken and I was the butcher.

I felt sick. I leaned forward and put my head in between my legs as the tsunami poured out of my eyes.

I looked down at my wrist and saw 'weak' I know that should make me feel like fighting and becoming stronger, but it didn't.