Parts Of Me

||CHAPTER ONE||

#Prompt1: You got a deep cut for the first time in your life. Instead of bone and muscle you see wires...

I lived a life, of dreams and nightmares,

But nightmares are dreams too, and wishes don't come true

Flash. Flash.

Where's the bone and muscle?

Flash. Flash.

There's nothing but wires.

I grip my wrist, but it remains the same. I pick up the knife I dropped from shock, and continue to dig deeper. Nothing but wires,  running in a neat row under my pale skin. I press harder, willing myself to bleed. The skin doesn't bruise, it doesn't change. The skin is torn, but it doesn't bleed. 

I remember pressing the knife to my cold skin, pushing harder than I've ever tried going, deeper than I've ever dared.

The colours flash, and I turn my wrist away from my eyes. Please make it go away. I breathe, I desperately force air into my lung. I don't understand. I kneel on the floor of my bathroom, the sound of the tap rushing drowning out the sounds from the television below, but not the demons in my mind.

I remember wishing it would take the pain away, wishing it could numb the hurt, wishing it could just stop my suffering.

I tentatively push my fingers into my wrist, and strangely it does not hurt. But it is that very fact that hurts me more than nothing else.

And yes, I now feel no pain.

I feel only inhumanity.

...

___________________ Three hours ago ___________________

Ghost fingers pull me back in remembrance, dunking me straight into the cold waters of harsh memory. Of harsh reality. My face stung. But not from pain, from shock. "Look up. You don't deserve to be sad." She hissed, drawing her hand back from where it had left a mark on my face.

Why would you say that?

Why would anyone not deserve to be sad?

She stared at me in the eye, bringing her face ever closer to mine. She placed a hand on the side of my face, drawing circles on my skin. "You don't deserve anything. You've never had to work hard for anything."

She has no idea how wrong she is. I drew away from her, moving backwards on the dirty floor. I felt shame."You don't know that."

"Are you sure I never had to work hard for anything?" I whispered, "How would you know? How would you know what I deserve and what I don't?"

She snarls at me, "I would know, I know you don't deserve anything you have! You don't deserve the grades you get, you don't deserve the friends you have, you don't deserve your looks!" She brushed her red hair out of her eyes, and she took a breath to calm herself down, "You don't deserve this life you have. You don't deserve to be this perfect."

"But what did I do to you? How have I so badly insulted you? Why are you doing this to me?"

Aletha pauses, but smirks, trailing her hand along my face, "The look of you disgusts me." She grabs me by my collar, 

I stared hard straight at her, but the dread had already formed inside me. I allowed my eyes to wander. Dozens of faces watched me, their gaze dropping when I looked at them. Some sat with hands in the laps, some hugged themselves, some were whispering amongst themselves. 

Eyes averted, heads turned. That's all I could see. Shoulders hunched, gazes lowered. The fear in the classroom was clear. So why is no one doing anything? How many times has this happen? How many more times do I need to be so afraid every morning, before someone does something?

The image of the prey. Scared, vulnerable, lost.

Afraid. 

It was a class of cowards.