Broken Pieces

A lot can happen in 6 months. Just like a lot can happen in 10 years. I know I haven't published in a long time but hopefully, in time, this movella will explain it.


4. I Wish

I wish that I had never met you.


I wish that I had never let you into my life. I wish you didn’t know every single fleeting thought that swam through the murky depths of my mind.


You enticed me to you, offering to take away all of the pain that was lodged like a stake in my crumbling heart. Friends knew you well, they said you helped and soon I knew you too. We were best friends. But we were worst enemies. You hurt me. You would visit as often as I allowed, always on the pretence that you would help.


But then, you changed. You popped up, uninvited, every second of every day that dragged out as uncomfortably as the last. And the one before that. And the many before that. You used to be my salvation, whereas now you were an obligation, an omnipresent force that gripped me tightly in a metal embrace. You glinted with joy at each new scarlet river. Every crimson raindrop was a wave of ecstasy for you.


There was once a little girl, who had just reached the tender age of 16. She was sitting amidst darkness, though the world outside was full of light. A light she could never reach. An untouchable treasure. She was sat under an ice-cold shower, trying to feel something. Anything. Pain on the outside to distract from the searing anguish that came as a result of the war inside. The mind is a dangerous thing. With too much consideration there comes a manifestation of thoughts, battling for the title of dictator. All leading to the one thing that is hard-wired into human DNA. Self destruction.


Depression triumphs, in this instant. A shaking hand reaches to the blue plastic packaging, fingers twitching longingly in anticipation. Suddenly, the trembling stops and her pupils grow wide with lust. An animalistic instinct descends onto her as she tears and bites at the casing, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Finally, the blade is out.


The first time doesn’t seem as bad. Just a few scratches that don’t even bleed. But it isn’t enough. Each time she needs more. There is a feeling of pure relief from the first time she actually draws blood, a wave of bliss washes over her but soon enough the storm starts to brew again, knocking her over and leaving her longing for a breath. Just one breath.


I wish you were still for sharpening pencils. I wish that I could reverse the clock and stop you from hurting me.


I wish that I had never met you.

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