tHe PaIn

"just a little," he told me.. "just see how it feels. it will distract you from the pain in your mind. try it." he was right. i now had a more noticeable pain. my thoughts subsided. my focus was on my arm. all my senses rushing to that area. feeling the sting of the open wound. the blood running down my arm. there was almost a gracefulness about it. beauty in a way. "how does that feel?" he asks me. i don't respond. i know my parents are in the other room. i don't want them to hear me. "it feels good, doesn't it?" he purrs. i look at the razor in my hand, blood glistening off of it. "go ahead. do it some more. feel the sting instead of the pain." the pain. i had forgotten for a minute. the pain that circulates around my mind. the thoughts that haunt me. all at once they start rushing back. i make a few more slices in my skin. i watched the blood pool to the top of the cut then rush out, racing down my arm. "that's it. the pain is gone for now. why don't you sleep. just take a nap. i'm sure you're exhausted from all that stress. sleep now. just sleep. relax..." his words start to fade as well as my vision..
i wake up an hour later and my arm stings. i look down and see the dried blood on my arm and one of my favorite scarves. i grab a few tissues to wipe my arm, grab my first aid cream and take care of my arm. when i get it bandaged i grab the bleach pen from my desk to work on my scarf. sitting there bleaching out the stain i start thinking. i don't remember doing this. i don't remember falling asleep. i notice something shine in the corner of my eye and see an old razor, blood stained. i quickly pick it up and hide it. i sit on the floor and put my head in my hands. "not again." i sighed and begin to cry...

SiT

he's here again. drunk as hell. why does he do this? he tells my mom he loves her, but all he does is take advantage of her hospitality. he sleeps where ever he wants. eats everything. and leaves alcohol bottles all over the house. i found a vodka bottle in the toilet once. it confused me, but pissed me off. i want to tell him off. but i know if i do, he'll come after me, or worse, he'd go after my mom. so i sit silently in my room. listening to the stumbling and grumbling that travels through the house. my mom following him like a lost puppy, just to make sure he stays safe. she could just talk to him about his drinking, or tell him off and when he does something, call the cops. i've called the cops on him before. my mom scolded me. she said he was going through a rough time. like this isn't rough on me? i sit here thinking about a better life. i sit here pondering what she would do if i disappeared. would she be too worried about her drunken boyfriend to give a shit about me? she acts like she's 16 when she's bordering 40. i dont know what to do. i dont know what i can do. so i sit and think. think of a better life.