Slicing into Hope

Author's note- I want to republish an old story I deleted. This doesn't have anything to do with the prompt. (Trigger Warning: Self-Harm, Suicide, Depression) Take care of yourselves, you are loved and perfect just the way you are :)

First Night- 

She stared at the blade; the blade stared at her. Crisp metal, sharpened to the point, glinting in the dim light of the weary bulb. 

On the kitchen floor, she sat, sharp intakes of breath through her lungs, the nerves throughout shook, wild. 

Sweat at the tips of her illuminated forehead, bruised wrists, streaks of ancient red at her dark skin, scabs that lay in withered layers, dark hollow eyes of hers blinked. Should she do it again? 

Dark mocking calls haunt her head, she just wanted to say goodbye, kiss life a metallic red goodbye, in one go, just a couple more seconds of searing pain in the veins and she really would be gone. Said goodbye. 

The knife didn't seem to do, a terrifying blade of trauma that could slice through her skin, plunging into her flesh, ripping apart her veins, her life, her only grips of hope. 

Soon, it had clattered to the ground, and the hand that held it lost the want of the blade to thirst her blood, instead, it hung clenched, against her side, as tears trickled low. She couldn't do it. Not tonight. 

Second Night- 

The knife was back, intent to pierce again. She continued her deep stare; would she really give in? Would she really say goodbye tonight? 

A fresh cut at her brown wrists would do, nearly as good as a goodbye forever. Or at least she would think that was the fact. The knife that was brought to her skin did not hesitate, but it didn't look so satisfying. 

A sudden movement, that's all she needed. It happened. 

Seeping blood had trickled dangerously, and pungent aromas of metallic red, whispered harshly, creeping up her nose, meeting at every sweated hair. Blood pumped low; it was nearly over... 

But it stopped. All of it. The knife stopped going down before she pulled away in a belittled gasp. Clattering against the floor. She can't say goodbye, the thoughts keep messing about. Lame, she felt, her head pounding, searing pains erupting, high voltages, currents at her blackened head. 

She stood up, maybe not tonight. Stumbling to the sink, she flicked the tap up, rushing water flushed her hand, cool, icy, going up against the hardness, the red, the anger, the sadness, the negative... 

She closed her eyes, nerves throbbing, her eyes leaked, tears that slid down her cheek mingled with the water swarming in the sink. Eyes looked back down at her wrists, sore red, new blood budded at the surface, light, full of pain and agony. Her eyes closed; she didn't want to see red at the moment. 

Her dang cracked phone beeped with never-ending messages from Bupa, a ton from health care, and an abominable message from the nearby ratty drugstore. Her eyes were in ravaged pain as she scrolled down hesitantly to her only trusted contact, "1 message from Kat". 

Her fingers were quivering, cryptic feels of chilling lowness that blew into her whirlwind of stomach squeezing thoughts. A sharp ringing call erupted from the ends of her decomposed phone, shrieking wild, anticipated to be answered. 

"H-hello?", a low whisper of furies and wrecked thoughts slid out her mouth. 

"Alex! What are you doing to yourself! I checked your bill last night through your transfer. Heck, all this time you've been spending your money on drugs! What's got into you!!!", Shrilling screams of a heartbroken sister's pain sounded dark, piercing her heart. 

"I-it's nothing, nothing. I'm serious", she didn't want to talk, she didn't want a word out of her mouth. 

"Oh, oh, so now you go ahead and hide everything from me. What's the meaning of this, the drugs, the reason you hardly call me? The reason you've been making extra visits to your doctor. You never, tell me anything, you are the only family I've got left and you leave me like this. If only mum and dad were here...", her voice trailed off, uncertain, hurt before Alex cut the call. 

Tears burst out again, pain, strife, all at once, she didn't know what to do, she couldn't tell Kat, it would hurt her too much. 

But you already did it... 

An unwary voice shoved hard whispers into her head. 

She didn't want to hear it, not now, so she shut her eyes, lonely but hurt, as sleep knocked into her head. 

Third Night- 

There was no knife tonight, just her head looking out the balcony. 

Icy air whipped up at her face, cold, loose, carefree, running up to her nose. Hair blew, wild, without hesitation into the light of the reflecting moon. The cut was not fresh, loosely scabbed, hard as she stared on. 

Maybe she can just jump out of the railing? She had thought of the incoming notices, the mocking, the harsh insults. The loneliness washed up suddenly, right into her life, it was never she could cope with, or at least she thought so. 

She was hurt, she failed every test set before her in college, and didn't know why. She joined a gang, a vicious gang, terrible people, merciless. Once you join, you don't know how to get out. She could become a criminal any time soon, a thief. She would become rouge, rouge from the unstoppable drugs, the torturing pain of not knowing where to go, who to turn to. She can't go to Kat; her parents are no more but the pain is still there... 

The calls of the horrid men from the group she decided to hang with, to feel "cool" screamed into her cowering ears. She wished she never went, never taken that stupid decision. But now she's stuck, split in two, remorse and hurt, she wants to end her life right there. 

Fourth Night- 

She lay in bed, eyes stuck to the blank ceiling, an unwaning haunt within her head. She could be anywhere but here, anywhere but stuck with the roof. She felt her urge to call Kat, but she couldn't, couldn't dare face the hurt face of her beautiful sister. 

Her phone was decorated with overflowing missed calls from her sister, worry, anxiety pain, she wanted to rush into her arms now, but she can't, she was by herself tonight. 

She felt her hand go to the back of her neck, slithering, a harsh rub against the rash, a cold chain slashed at her dirt-washed hand. 

Bringing her hand down, tracing it down the looped patterns, trembling fingers ending at a pendant. Round, wholesome, something good, something that sparked when her tips touched. 

Her head went down, eyeing the shining brass, unruly hair falling in front of the whites of her eyes. Grimy fingers went to the ridges, opening at the crack. Her fingers with nails bitten to their beds, rubbing the yellow gloss, eroding words, "Just remember, you are loved" 

The words whispered like a lone melody into the dark thoughts that flooded her mind. A black and white photo, of her... and her late beautiful mother, her handsome father, her smiling sister and her. She couldn't believe she was like that 10 years ago, smiling, joy lit at every corner of her brown dimples. 

Her life that she put at stake, her very life she was on the verge of wasting seemed to lay in peace, lightly as flooding memories of the fact that she was loved, she had a place to call home. The idea of the fact that she wasn’t being selfish by staying alive crept into her head.  

Light tears dropped like precious diamonds, her fingers rubbed the gloss, a tune went through as she thought gently... 

"Maybe, I can love myself, maybe I don't have to say goodbye..."