A Different Kind of Therapy.

I flung my arm over to the other side of my bed where the amazingly annoying alarm was going off. For the first time in a very long time; I actually shut the damn thing off on the first try.

I got out of bed, shivering. "God it's cold in here, why can't mom turn on the fucking heat?" I mumbled to myself.

Another day, another day listening to mom bitch at me and blame me, just because she feels like it. Another day of school. I actually tend to like school though. It gets me away from this house, which is good.

I got dressed, did all the normal stuff and went downstairs until it was time for me to go wait for my bus.

"Hey mom, good morning." I said hoping I didn't say it in a "bad" or "disrespectful" way.

"God Veronica, WHY do you alway have to be so fucking bitchy in the morning?!" She half screamed half talked.

"I'm sorry, mom. I didn't mean to say it like that." Once again, I was cowering down to my mom. WHY am I so afraid of her?

"Ugh, just go out to your bus." She said dismissively.

So the day went by slowly. Very slowly. Then, it was the end of 8th period and we were all getting on our bus's to go home.

When I got home my mom was already there.

"Hi mom, how was work?" I asked.

"..Uh, it was fine...how was school?"

Wow, she had really just asked me a question, and wasn't being bitchy about it.

"School was good, except we have LOADS of homework in the stupid Honors Geometry class. Eh."

"Ugh, Veronica, why do you alway have to fucking complain! Personally, I don't give a shit how much homework you have, I was just asking about your day because you asked about mine, no, would you go get me a drink...damn."

"No! You know what? Get your own damn drink, I'm not your personal slave mom!" I screamed at her.

Wow...I screamed.

"What...did you just say to me?" She whispered with a scowl on her face.

"I...I um." I stammered.

"Never...talk to me like that again you fucking cunt! You thing your lifes so bad don't you!? Oh, poor you, you don't have your daddy or your sister with you anymore thats SO horrible! You have to do chores, you have to get me drinks, you have to ship for food! Your lifes, SO, FUCKING, HORRIBLE isn't it!" She said the last few words with such hate that I actually cringed.

"Aww, your grandmas dead, your grandpa hung himself! Your aunt and uncle moved away! Soooo bad isn't it?! NO, you have an amazing life, and you better not fucking forget it you little cock sucking asshole! You're such a fucking dissapointment!" She screamed as her face was turning red.

She started walking towards me and I knew what that meant. Just as I had though, a second later I felt the sharp pain from where she had just slapped me with her nails. I put my hand up to my face and backed away. My eyes watery with tears. I ran up the stairs out of her reach and into my room.

No matter how hard I tried I couldn't stop the tears from coming out. I grabbed my little blue ring box and opend it slowly. There it was, shimmering in the light from my window, my own, personal therapy.

The razor.

I pulled my sleeve up and looked at all the faded and new scars, and the "almost" fresh cuts I had done a couple days before.

Slowly, I pulled the razor along my wrist. As the blood started to come out faster and faster, I finally felt relief, and I was happy for the first time that day.

I knew what I was going to do, and really, I didn't care anymore. I wanted this to end. I went into the bathroom and closed the door, slid down onto the floor and made vertical and horizontal lines across my arms. I felt dizzy and saw all the blood. I knew it was too late to save me, there was too much blood. I was never going to be the daughter that she wanted.I could never do anything right, so this wouldn't matter to her.

Just as my eyes were closing and I felt myself dying, the door opened fast. Through the fog, I knew it was mom. I heard a gasp and a glass fall to the floor and crash.

She came over to me and all she said was "Why?"

And just before I was fully gone, I sort of sputtered, "...you."

And that was it, I was gone, she got what she wanted. She didn't have to deal with me anymore.

END.