84 Broken Tips (2/2)
She knew what she was doing was wrong… but was it? 'What am I supposed to do with these emotions? I haven't felt the sun beating down on me in months, haven't interacted with anyone but him and have been stuck in here with my mind for more hours than I wished.' She threw herself onto the couch behind her and looked up at the blank ceiling again, wishing for the 10th time that day that it would fall in and collapse on her.
Her mind wouldn't stop eating at its square walls. The thoughts of self-harm came to her as quickly as she could drink down a bottle of water, hoping she would choke on it. Hate, rage, pain, stress was the only emotions she could recognize and every smile she gave or laugh she spat out was 20 seconds away from turning into tears. Nothing seemed to work.
The warm sensation of the blood running down her wrist had always seemed pleasing to her. The waves of pain from each bloody stripe she gave herself was like a reassurance that she was still alive. A way to lift her head against the rapid waves of her mind before she was pulled under again when the pain drifted away. But today in the crimson red waves of the pool of blood forming on the table, she saw people she wished to forget. Blond locks soaked in red, the blue sky peering up at her in fear and waves of black floating upon rivers of red.
Her hand trembled as it delivered it's the last stab into her arm before she threw her fork into the pool of blood, crawling back onto the couch and curling into a ball in a corner of the warm arms of the couch. She stared at the white plastic fork laying on the table with drops of blood running down its side and then to her bloodied hand.
”Why am I doing this to myself?” She thought to herself, ”why is red the only color I want to see?”
She hid her head in her knees and covered her face with her red hands, crying silently.
”Why am I so pathetic?” she sobbed, salty hot tears flowing down her stained cheeks, mixing with the red and falling off her chin, ”why do I always resort to this? WHY DO I LIKE THIS?!”
'What am I doing that is different from killing? WHAT AM I DOING THAT IS DIFFERENT FROM WHAT I DID BEFORE?!' she scolded herself, 'I give in to my impulsive feelings, fall prey to other's words and let myself fall deeper into a hole I dig. No wonder he calls me that whenever we meet. I am pathetic.'
”Haha…” Regan chuckled, lifting her head up and craning her head backward and looking up at the ceiling again, ”don't act like you didn't know this before. You knew. You just didn't want to change yourself.”
She ran her bloody fingers through her hair as she laughed hysterically with tears rolling down her eyes, ”DON'T ACT LIKE YOU DIDN'T KNOW YOU WERE FUCKING SELF-DESTRUCTING!! You knew you could be saved. YOU KNEW YOU COULD BE SAVED BUT WAITED UNTIL YOU DUG SO DEEP THAT THE WORDS YOU FED YOURSELF COULD FINALLY DESTROY YOU!!”
Her fingers dug into her scalp as she scratched her head vigorously, ”HAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAHAHAHHAHAH.”
She shook violently as she scratched her head, eventually doubling over and laying on the couch defenselessly. ”HAHAHA...HAHA..hah..ha,” she chuckled, her tears running out one eye, up and down the creases in her face and into her other eye, ”fucking pathetic. That's what you are.”