Colours of our skin

The sunlight poured into my room like a river of gold. Too bright for my liking. Mentally, I didn't want to get out of bed, physically, I couldn't. Though sleeping is meant to refill your energy, I was still as drained as I always was.

My heart skipped a beat as my mother flew open the door. "Up, up come on. School." I groaned and pulled the covers over my head, not wishing for any contact of life, but I didn't want to annoy her so I forced myself out, taking every ounce of energy I had.

Scuffling to my bathroom, clumsily trying to grab hold of the doorknob. I stared into the mirror, positioning my body so I could see the whole of it.

My hair was blonde and luscious before but now it has faded. I stood staring at myself, picking up every tiny flaw. Like how there's no gap between my thighs, my chipped and grimy nails, my frail hair with more split ends then a dog's. How hairy my legs were, the many pimples my face had given me without mercy. I struggled not to start crying again because of how imperfect and ugly I was. I hated myself.

I turned from the mirror unwillingly and stripped down to my scars. Up to my wrists and down to my ankles were covered in ferocious scars of past pain. Each mark holds a memory of the hurting. I usually cut with a razor that I keep in my pillowcase along with all the other razors I have used in the past. Broken ones, rusted ones, spare ones, you name it. I flicked the water on, dipping my hand into the liquid to check the temperature before putting the plug in. It was scorching hot, just the way I liked it. Over the years I have gotten used to pain. To be honest, it's probably my best friend... and my only friend. Once the water was filled past halfway, I shut the tap off with a squeak and slowly slid myself into the water, sinking to just below my neck.

Warmth sept into my body like chocolate melting in your mouth, the sensation just incredible, you would always want more. Not one part of my body lay untouched by the fiery substance, each part was reddening from the heat. I always look forward to baths, it gives me a way to unwind, relax, and... contemplate all the crappy things in my life.

Like I said before, the best of the day for me is getting in the bath, but the worst is also getting out. It's my way of relief, more like a way to self-harm, but in a way that isn't permanent and doesn't do any damage to my already-destroyed body. So it's beneficial to both me and my parents.

I got dressed and stood in front of the back of my door where a calendar hung. Big red crossed the days gone past. The crosses stopped at a day that had been circled, and today was that day. The day I had been looking forward to for ages, the only thing I had looked forward to in a very long time. I took the marker from my bookcase and through the day I put one. Final. Cross.

I gave a satisfied yet hesitant look to the calendar, starting to reconsider my choice. It's too late now, I thought to myself. I twisted my body away from it, grabbed my bag, and shoved my phone, earphones, a bottle of whiskey that I stole from mum's alcohol cabinet, and my sleeping pills. I zipped it up, threw the bag over my shoulder, took one last look at my room, and closed the door behind me with no intention of looking back.

"I'm going now mum," I waited by the front door for her response.

She called out from the kitchen, "Okay, sweetie, have fun at school, I love you."

"I love you too," I croaked, just loud enough for the mice in the walls to hear. I could feel the tears swelling in my eyes but I left before she could say anything else.