Diamond in the Rough

Chapter 5: I'm the Problem

"It wants love, but I reject it
Trade my joy for my protection.
Grab my hand, I'm drowning
I feel my heart pounding
Why haven't you found me yet?"
Trauma ~ NF

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   It was around 5:42 when I finally decided to get out of bed. The soft, fluffy carpet greeting my feet. Like the dead, I walk to the bathroom with squinted eyes, arms limp and head back in exasperation.

  I reluctantly turn on the light, not ready for the blinding brightness of the fluorescent beam. I let out a small hiss as the light blinds my vision. As my eyes began to adjust to the brightness in the bathroom, I make sure to avoid looking in the mirror because I already know what I'll see....trash.

  So instead, I turn my attention to the opaque shower curtain that had a weird pattern of circles in different sizes all over it. I pushed the curtain aside to reveal a large shower head attached to the wall, a little above my 5'6" self. The floor was a flat, pale, semi-wide tub with a drain right below the shower head.

  I carefully strip out of my clothes, trying not to reopen any healing wounds or get my shirt caught on my cast again. I hate when that happens. It's embarrassing, another reminder of everything I want to leave in the past, but can't.

   I twist the cold, long metal handle to the left, in between hot and cold. I grab a trash bag from the roll I stored in the cupboard under the sink and put it around my right arm to fully cover my cast before wrapping the end with a little duck tape and step into the shower.

  I relish in the feel of the hot water running over my body, helping release all the pent up tension from the night before. The pitter-patter of the falling water and my calm breathing echo throughout the white-tiled bathroom. I stand still for a few moments, not moving, wishing that the water could cleanse me and rid me of my thoughts, but I know it won't. But at the moment, that's not the point.

  I don't know how long I took in the shower, but I know it's not quick. Reluctantly, I step out of the cloud of steam, wrapping around me like a shield that feels as if it's suffocating my lungs a little and grab the folded towel lying on the sink counter. I wrap it tightly around my body and roll the top of it up so it stays in place.

   I turn on the fan in the bathroom to help relieve it of the thick, moist air and grab my hair brush from the counter and brush out the little nots riddling my wet hair. Once it's all brushed through, I move to squeeze the excess water out into the shower drain and rub a separate towel against my hair to try and dry it a little more. I take the towel that I had used to dry my hair and move it across the wide bathroom mirror, wiping off all the moisture from the reflective surface.

  I place both my hands on the cool counter with my legs directly behind me, leaning forward on the counter. All the weight on the tips of my toes and some in the palm of my hands, staring at the sink. Once the mirror finally starts to clear, I look up to see the lost girl in front of me.

  Her green eyes are dull and sad with dark bags underneath them. Her face is smooth except for a little bit of acne on her forehead.

  There's a small, awkward bump to the right of her head where the doctors had to shave a small patch of hair off in order to fix an injury. I felt the short, soft, newly growing hairs with a featherlike touch. They were at that awkward stage where they were too long to be covered and too short to look normal.

  Eventually I let my eyes stray away from the patch of hair and focus on her arms. Her upper arms are covered in scars, and her lower half has small slashes everywhere and a small burn mark on the inside of her arm, below the elbow.