My strides get shorter and faster , my breathing gets heavier and deeper.
I had never been a runner. I had never been anything and all I wanted to think about right now was getting away, to return back home to my only friend. The only one who could help me escape from the rest of the world.
I slow my pace down a bit just as I turn into my road. Not that my mom and Ian would notice much anyway if my breathing was off. The don't give two shits about me. I'm the daughter they never wanted.
Quickly I run through the door and charge up the stairs to my room. The tears that had previously stopped falling had now begun again, this time worse than ever. My vision was blurry and my thoughts were clouded by only one thing. Bending down under my bed, I pull out a old cardboard box. I open up the lid and unwrap the small object that was safely hidden inside. My only friend. My blade.
I bring the cold metal up to the soft innocent underneath of my arm. It brushes lightly against my skin causing me to shiver. I then place it back against my wrist, this time letting it sink into the flesh. Droplets of blood run down the length of my arm, creating little wiggly trails of crimson. I wince through the pain but it felt so good. It always felt good. I then lift up the blade again and slice another cut into my flesh, this time making it slightly deeper than the last. I then repeat the same thing, until I have a mixture of deep and shallow slices all the way up my arm, some old, some new. Drops of the blood had already dried in a crust around the cuts but I still grab my rag of material and wrap it tightly around them.
I sit in my room for a while and think over things. "I had just tried to commit suicide. But I failed. I failed just like I fail at everything else" my conscious speaks. I try to block it out, but I know its right, If I hadn't failed, I wouldn't be sat here right now, with a bloody arm and a bandage.
When I finally go back downstairs, Mom and Ian are both sat on the couch engulfed into some American comedy. Empty drink bottles and wine glasses are sprawled around the floor, most likely left for me to clear up. Would of been a good wake up call to them if I hadn't returned home this evening. Mind you, they probably wouldn't have noticed.
I walk into the room and let myself drop back into the spare couch. Since getting back I had changed from my white tank and shorts to some slouch pants and a hoodie, with my rag still tied tightly around my wrist. Neither one of them draw their eyes away from the screen to look at me. I decide to stay quiet for the rest of the evening in hope to get rid of today's memories, but the painful throb of my arm burnt the face of the boy into my skull.
What was his name again? Ben? Bew? Beau. His name was Beau. I remembered the way he said his name, how it rolled off his tongue. How he....No. I block my thoughts out of my head. I shouldn't be thinking about him. It was just one of those things.
"Will you stop looking like an arse Dahlia, you making me feel depressed" Ian growls, switching the TV off, though I still don't move my eyes from it.
"Dahlia!"
"Leave it bub, she's not gonna listen to you"
"No! She is always so selfish towards us, she needs to learn to have a bit of respect towards us!" he argues back to my mum, leaving her silent. My fists grip in frustration. I hate him.
"I don't know why she could just go and live with her dad, it would save us a lot of trouble. The two of them could live together. It would be perfect"
"Because, Ian, her dad doesn't want her-"
He laughs, "Well that's no surprise, who would want some mopey, depressed teenager around anyway. Having her was probably one of the biggest mistakes you could of-"
"SHUT UP!!!"
My voice echos around the house cutting Ian off from his sentence. How dare he?!
"Shut up!' I scream again, this time, not quite so loud. Immediately I regret my words as he pulls himself off the couch and storms over towards me, anger radiating form every which way.
"Ian don't...." mom whimpers but he takes no notice and grabs my hair, yanking me off my own seat.
"You, young lady need to learn some fucking manners"
His voice is low in my ear and his hot breath tickles my cheek. He pulls me forward and pushes me up the stairs. My attempt in not crying fails again and I feel tears stream down my face for the third time today. My anger is raging within me but I stay quiet as he continues shoving me up the stairs.
When we reach my room, he pushes me down on the bed. I knew what was coming next.
"NO PLEASE! IAN I'M SO SORRY! IT WONT HAPPEN AGAIN! I BEG YOU PLEASE DON'T DO THIS! STAY AWAY FROM ME!"
I shut my eyes, knowing that know matter what I say nothing can stop him. I hear him fiddling with his belt then him sliding his jeans down, then his pants. I hold my breath, hoping to make myself fall unconscious but it doesn't happen quick enough as I feel him inside me. I choke out a scream and more tears before closing my mouth again. His hands work their way around me, under my top and through my hair. My eyes flick open.
Pass out, pass out! My mind screams, only wishing that for once in my life, I didn't fail. I feel him remove himself then a fist hits my right cheek.. I fall to the floor, hitting my head hard on the corner of my desk. I hear him stalk out the room, his footsteps get quieter and quieter. My tears had now stopped, my breathing still heavy. I was in to much pain to move. And then just as I remembered I was still holding my breath, everything goes black...........
Thank you and I love you all!!! :)