I walked down the halls of my high school in a daze. It was the only thing I could think about; the feeling it brought. The release. The sharp metallic blade of the knife sliding its way across my tanned skin. I couldn't think about anything else but cutting.
"Helloo?" My best friend Bridget said, waving her pale hand in front of my face, "Earth to Leena! What the hell are you thinking about?"
"Nothing." I mumble not wanting to tell her what was going through my head.
She rolled her eyes as we walked out into the bright sunlight and a peaceful breeze that blew my strawberry blond hair around in a mess. I wore a pair of jean shorts and a blue hoodie. I walked in silence with Bridget as she went on her endless babble with my only response a nod here or there and saying 'yeah' or 'okay' whenever she paused.
"So Leena quick question." Bridget said looking directly at me, "Why are you were a sweater? It's bloody 30 degrees out!"
I tugged down on my sleeves feeling really cautious about my scars I hid that covered my arms. I couldn’t lie to her so I just shrugged as Bridget continued on her endless babble once again.
I sat on my bathroom floor. No one was home at all, not even my brothers who were always home but today they had football practice. I had a pocket knife in my hand pressed against my skin. I made a clean even cut. It bled allot but I didn’t care. I let it bleed but after a while I put some Kleenex to it and soaked up all the blood. I flushed the Kleenex down the toilet to get rid of the evidence. I took out my hair spray and sprayed a cloth with it. I wiped it over the cut. It stung some but not too much I was used to it by now. I learned this from a book I had read. It made the cut puff up some. I liked having the scars on my arms. It was art to me but this was a private art that I shared with no one except my reflection.
This was my drug my personal addiction. It released me from the pain and sorrow of everything. My break-up, my druggie oldest brother, my broken family, everything. I cleaned up the bathroom removing any and all evidence of what I had just done. I looked in the mirror. What had I become? From the biggest prep in the world wanting to be a model to slitting my wrists and being emo. This was me