I slowly opened my eyes, my vision slowly came into focus and I realized I was in my room. I sat up on my bed and grabbed my head. It was throbbing. I had no idea how I got in here, but then it all hit me at once. The bullying, the rope, the ladder, crying... my cousin. My cousin. Was he still here? I brought my hand down from my head when I brushed my neck. I could feel outline of the rope on my neck, and it was burning like hell. I slowly got up, and walked out to the living room to find my cousin pacing back and forth running his hands through his hair. When he saw me he stopped and looked at me, he'd been crying, his eyes were red, his sleeves were rolled up, and his hair was a matted mess. I felt awful. "Brianna." he whispered, he walked over to me and threw his arms around me. I've never seen him cry, or even upset. I could feel my heart shatter into a million pieces. What did I do? I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his chest. "I'm so sorry." I whisper, hugging him tighter. He started stroking my hair. "Do you want to talk about what happened?" I shook my head and we sat down on the couch. I told him everything. After I finished I looked at him "You can't tell my mom any of this. Please." he grabbed my hand and said "Alright, I won't." that surprised me. I thought he was going to make me talk to her about it, but I was happy at the same time. "But promise me you won't try that again. I don't wanna see my baby cousin go like that. I love you." and bam, I started crying. He hugged me and I snuggled into his chest "I-I-I L-love you too." I was sobbing and shaking. I was glad I had him. I never felt closer to him.
Now, this is something I hate to think about. Fast forward to mid-June. My mom, cousins, and I went to go hike up Mount Rose. I didn't want to go because I butchered my leg the night before, so wearing shorts was risky. But I found long enough shorts to cover them. As long as I didn't sit down for them to ride up. After the hike, my mom and I got into her car and started driving home. I looked down, only to my horror, to see that the leg on my shorts rose up exposing a cut. But my mom was quick to catch it. She looked at me and slowly asked "What is that?" I was desperately trying to keep the panic out of my voice. "It's nothing. I just fell when we were hiking." she quickly fired back "You did not fall." I sighed and said "Alright, I was playing with the kittens and one of them scratched me." but she still wasn't buying it. Quietly she asked "Brianna, are you cutting yourself?" after that, the whole memory is one big, messy, fucked up blur. I only remember bits and pieces of what her and I said to each other. She yelled "Do I need to take you to a therapist?!" I remember feeling like I would vomit at any second I was so afraid and shaken up. I was angry at myself for not taking the extra precautions to hide my cuts. But one thing that amazed me was how she could tell from just one cut. One word that makes me cringe every time somebody uses it is "Self-Mutilation" my mom kept saying that over and over. I fucking hate that word. After that, she finally calmed down and when we got home, she told me to throw away my blades. I obediently did so, it was painful to watch them go. After, she pulled me into a hug and I tensed. Being hugged was the last thing I wanted. After she said we were going to put this whole mess behind us and told me to go shower and get ready for dinner so we could go meet our cousins. As I walked into the bathroom I thought "This isn't going to last. I'm going to snap and go crawling back to those blades. And she won't even know. I'll just go higher up on my thighs."