The Metal Ruler
My classmate rolled up her sleeve and showed by bff her scars. My best friend, Viv, saw it and was creeped out. She told me what happened. I thought it was sad. It was scars, but not permanent.
A few months later, many people teased me about a boy liking me. I did something really wrong, and that became the school’s rumour. It went to everyone’s ears. It was painful hearing all the teasing. Then I remember what Viv told me. When I went home, I pulled up the sleeve of my long-sleeve shirt. I took the penknife and placed it at my arm. Then I chickened out. I was too scared. Too scared of dying. I just needed something to vent my sadness on. So, I grabbed my metal ruler. I pushed the sharp side, and glide it fast across my arm. I bit my lip, to prevent myself from screaming. There was no blood, but there was a white line, that turned red in no matter of time. I realised, it was perfect. I continued, until I felt happy. Happy in there.
Another way I use is the nails. Dig it in my skin, and glide. No blood, not dirty, just pain. I was the chicken. So scared of everything. Not even using a blade.
I did this for months whenever I could not hold anymore. One day, I secretly did it in class. My friend caught me and she told me not to do it. I lied and said ok, but I continued. One day, while I was doing work in school, I realised my metal ruler was gone from my pencil case. I saw it stick out from my friend’s pocket. I tried to take it back, but she did not. She returned it to me at the end of the day.
One year has passed. I still cut. I still injure myself. But not as much anymore. I’m happy right now, and my scars are fading.
Person Female, 14, began to SI at 13, Student