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Chapter One

 

 

MY HEART SUNK AS I SAW MY BOYFRIEND KISS ALLY CAMPTON.

I felt the tears pooling over my eyelids. This is his “studying with friends” excuse?

            “Man, was I stupid!” I yelled.

            Kyle slowly turned around. His eyes showed no sign of apologizing to me. Ally crossed her arms and put her weight on one foot with a smirk on her face.

            “I didn’t want you to find out like this,” he finally said.

            I sort of laughed, “Really? So, were you just going to sit me down and say you’ve been cheating on me for who knows how long?”

            My legs were shaking and I could tell my voice was too.

            Ally just stared, not saying anything. Probably because she did not have to, the situation was speaking for itself.

            “Before I leave I want you to tell me one thing,” I said.

            “What?” he asked flatly.

            “Why her? Why did you pick this slut?” I asked, looking at Ally.

            I got her. Her jaw dropped and her fists clenched as if she wanted to hit me.

            “YOU BITCH!” She screamed.

            “Yeah. Yeah, I am. But at least I don’t have my boobs plastered on the internet!”

 

            I felt numb on the walk home. However, once I closed the front door I could not stop crying. This is what it is like to be dumped, I thought.

            I picked up my phone and dialed my mom’s number, hoping to talk to her about what happened. My mom always knew what to do whenever I got hurt.

            “Hello?”

            “Mom, I need to talk to you,” I said somewhat sober.

            “Oh, honey, I can barely hear you,” she said.

            I heard the sound of typing in the background.

            “Where are you?” I asked.

            “I have to work late. Why? Is everything okay?”

            Of course she is working. My mom is always working. Dad is a doctor so he is on-call almost every day. My big brother, James, is a total football jock so he is never home, and that leaves me here, all alone.

            “Yeah,” I lied. “Everything’s fine. Bye.”

            I didn’t even wait for her to answer before I hung up. My mind went numb. Why does this have to hurt so badly?

            I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was in shock; I was in pain; I was in every negative emotion in the book. I had to do something. Something to forget everything.

            I thought about drinking some of dad’s liquor but figured it would be hard to hide. What about hitting myself until I bruised then blaming it on Kyle?

            “No,” I said to myself aloud. “You can’t go down to his level, Cassie.”

            I kept thinking for a while. That’s when it hit me. I jumped up and went to my bathroom. I took out my leg shaver and pressed the four blades to my left wrist.

If you’re going to do it, then do it quick, a voice in my head said.

My conscience was nowhere to be heard. I guess it is a good thing; otherwise, it would have stopped me. I drew in a deep breath, and then pulled the razors across my wrist. The pain wasn’t as bad as I thought, and neither was the blood. I wanted more than that. No, I needed more than that. That’s when I remembered James had bought double-edged razor blades at the store a year or so ago. He said he put them in his shaver. It was one of those old people shavers.

            I got the razors out and opened the box. Inside there were ten, perfectly sharpened blades. However, I only needed one to do the job. I did not cut myself once; I did not cut myself twice. I ended up cutting 100 perfect, two-inch long cuts on both of my forearms. I had somehow ended up lying on the bathroom floor, soaking up the ecstasy that was quickly filling me. I stared up at the lights until my eyes ached. I got up blindly and looked through the white spots in my vision at my bloody arms. Hatred suddenly replaced the ecstasy.

            “You’re ugly! That’s why he ended up cheating on you!” I yelled at the mirror.

            I did not look like myself. I looked…like a monster. There was a lot of blood on my arms, and some blood on my face. I had eyeliner and mascara streaks on my cheeks. I was a mess.

            I picked up the razor and placed it vertically on my left wrist, right on a vein. Tears continued to fall as I sliced into my vein. I bit my lip from the pain but kept going. I could feel each layer being torn open by the blade. I knew the blade was in my vein.

I felt the tugging sensation get stronger as my skin was fighting to keep itself together. I pulled the razor about halfway up my forearm.

            The blood didn’t squirt like in the movies; instead, it was like a steady crimson stream. My arm was stinging and it felt on fire.

            I tried to cut into my right wrist but my arm was too weak to put enough pressure on the blade. I slide down the bathroom wall and landed on the floor with a thud. I felt so tired.

            I reached into my pocket and grabbed my iPod. I put on the headphones and changed the song to Gun in Hand by Stutterfly. It has always been one of my favorite songs. The song is about a kid who shoots himself in the head, so it kind of made sense to listen to it. I sang along with it until my voice gave out and my vision grew blurry. The bridge played as I passed out.

 

           

Held in his friends arms,

Blood on his face,

Hole in his head,

Gripped by deaths embrace.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

 

 

I woke up with a throbbing headache and feeling very confused. My hand started to reach for my head when it was stopped. I looked down to see I was in restraints, and covered in white gauze.

            “What the hell?” I whispered to myself.

            I’m supposed to be dead! Why am I not dead?

            I began to panic as I realized what must have happened. Before I could go into a full panic attack, a nurse walked in, carrying a cart of gauze and other medical things.

            “Oh,” she said surprised. “You’re finally awake.”

            She walked over to me and began undoing the bandages on my right arm.

            “Where am I? What happened?” I asked.

            “You’re in the hospital, sweetie. You tried to commit suicide.”

            “Whoa. No. That is not what happened. I should not be here! I mean, I’m not suicidal or anything,” I said. My heart began racing.

            “Well, those are pretty deep cuts on your arms. We had to stitch most of them, and that cut on your left wrist was bad. That’s what caused you to pass out; you lost a lot of blood,” she said, now putting fresh gauze on my arm.

            I couldn’t watch her. I could see how ugly I had made my arms. When I was doing it, I couldn’t see through all the blood. There were little black stitches covering almost all the cuts. It was…beautiful.

            I loved the way they looked. I wish I could have seen them do the stitches. Going in and out of my skin with a needle sounded like heaven. Wait, I should not be thinking like that! That’s supposed to be gross and painful. Why don’t I think about it that way?

            “What’s wrong with me?” I asked myself.

            The nurse looked up from my arm and said, “You okay, honey?”

She looked concerned. However, I didn’t believe it.

            “When can I go home? And when can I get out of these restraint things?”

            “Last night, your parents were given two options. They could both take you home and have you see a therapist, or we could put you in an in-patient program here at the hospital, which is a two-month long program. Your parents decided the in-patient was the best route. I will not be-“

            “Wait…what?” I interrupted. “What does ‘in-patient’ mean?”

            She sighed as if she was bored of hearing that question. “It just means that you’ll be staying here at the hospital for two months. You will stay here and get the help you need to cope with stress in your life. I will have the doctor come in once I am done with your bandages, okay? He’ll explain more.”

            I didn’t know what to think. I was once again numb to the core. If only Kyle hadn’t kissed stupid Ally, the slut, everything would be the same. We would be happily in love and get married and all that gushy stuff. Even though we are sixteen we were talking about getting married someday. That is how in-love we were.

            After a couple minutes, the nurse left and in came this geeky looking person. He barely had any hair, big glasses that covered almost all of his face, and he wore a long white coat. The coat was probably covering his suspenders and pocket protector.

            “Hello, Cassie. My name is Doctor Gordon. Do you know why you are here today?” he asked all professional-like.

            “Yeah. I wanna go home, now. I don’t belong here.” I said frustrated.

            “I can’t let you go home yet, Cassie. You’re parents and I both agreed it would be unsafe for you.” He paused. “Did you know you severely injured yourself? We had to give you some blood transfusions last night because you had lost so much blood.”

            We didn’t say anything for a minute.

            “I don’t belong here,” I said again.

            “I’m sorry you feel that way right now, but understand that I still can’t let you go. Your parents already signed for the in-patient program.”

            I quit listening after that. I was so angry. I mean, come on! Can’t they just take my word? I won’t do it again! Ever! And if I do, I certainly won’t do where people would see it. That’s just common sense, I just was not thinking yesterday.

            I was almost dead yesterday, I think, letting it sink in. I felt like I wanted to die, but I didn’t want to. I guess I deserved to be in this psych ward.

 

 

Chapter three

 

 

 

 

 

“We’re going to start by introducing ourselves. Say your name, age, and why you’re here.”

 

There were moans across the room so I’m guessing this is not one of the most favorite activities.

 

The first girl who started had dark, curly hair. She had a lot of zits too. “I’m Sara, I’m fifteen, and I’m here because I tried to kill myself,” she says, looking down. My eyes automatically dropped to her wrists which were covered in the same white bandages as mine. Figures. This in-patient is all about the crazies. But I had to admit, some of these “crazies” were cute. The boy sitting next to me had the most gorgeous blue eyes; like diamonds. He also had a baby face with dirty blond hair. I saw little circular scars on his arms. I think they were from cigarettes. I would soon find out because he sat next to zit girl.

 

“My name is Jordan, I’m seventeen, and I’m here for drugs and self injury.”

 

Well, what do you know? Pretty boy does some self mutilating. I wonder if-

 

“Cassie?” the therapist said, interrupting my thoughts. “It’s your turn to go.”

 

“Ugh,” I said with a sigh, “so my name’s Cassie, I’m 16 and I’m here for failing the easiest suicide attempt ever and slicing myself up.”

 

Nobody moved. Even the air conditioning shut off. I looked over at Jordan and he was smiling.

 

The group therapist didn’t look happy. “It would be nice if you would take this seriously, but because you just got here, you get a free pass. Alright, next,” she said, motioning to the girl on my left.

 

Through the rest of the session I stayed quiet, taking quick glances around the room to see if people were looking at me. And I’m sure they were watching but I just never caught them.

 

I learned that Sarah is an anorexic and schizophrenic, Todd has bipolar and was abusive towards his girlfriend and Karen pulls out all her hair and bites her fingernails until the bleed. There aren’t that many kids here but everyone seems to belong except me. I only did a onetime thing and everyone else has been doing it for years.

 

            As the day passed I found it hard to cope with the fact that my parents actually left me in the hands of people that like to keep you drugged up. I felt hurt, betrayed. I felt worse knowing that James had found me on the bathroom floor covered in blood. Then there was the fact that everybody at school was probably talking about me. Basically, my life sucked.

 

            I needed some sort of escape.

 

            I needed the razor. But how would I get it? This place is locked down like a federal prison.

 

            I looked around my room trying to see if I could find something I could use to cut. My gaze focused in on a very tiny, but very sharp staple at the base of my bed.

 

            My heart began racing. Just like before.

 

            Come on Cassie, just do it already! Said the voice in my head. I checked the hall and made sure no one was in site and I slowly crossed the room to the staple. My hands shook when I picked it up. I tested the sharpness with my index finger. Sharp.

 

            I rolled up my sleeve and tore off the bandages. I looked for a place to cut where no one would notice. Well, it wasn’t too hard. My whole arm was covered in thin, red/black lines. Some looked as if they were bleeding earlier but it was hard to tell. There was just so many cuts. I loved it.

 

I placed the staple near the crease of my elbow and I dug it in until I could no longer bear the pain. My hands stopped shaking; my heart stopped racing.

 

            Everything stopped.

 

            Relief. Silence. Peace.

 

            I laughed. Nothing was funny, I was just so happy. So peaceful.

 

            “What are you doing?” boomed a deep voice.

 

            “Shit!” I said whirling around. It was Jordan.

 

            “Please don’t tell! I don’t know what came over me! Please!”

 

            “Slow down there. I wasn’t planning on telling anyone. I just wanted to know how it felt.”

 

            I love this boy.

 

 

 

 

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