I sighed as I flopped onto the bed, boredom eating away my mind. Emma still hasn't replied yet, that's weird. I quickly typed a quick: why aren't you answering? You read my last message.. Before burrowing myself into my blankets like a burrito.
"Hey," my mom said, peering through the door. "We're gonna leave you here, is that okay?"
"Yeah!" I truthfully answered from under my sheets.
"Okay, come out from under there before we leave."
I gave her a muffled, "awwww.." But raised up with a yawn. I clamored out, going to flip on the TV as I heard the garage door close.
I glanced down but felt my heart stop as I read the message.
Emma: give me time to lick my wounds okay? I was minding my own business when I got that song u sent about me. I just needed some time to heal, why wouldn't u give me tht?
I sucked in my breathe and brought a blanket down upon myself.
Me: that was just a random song!
Emma: you're lying.
It's hard when someone has accused you of something like that because you can't really talk them out of it. They've made up their own version of what happened and you can't change it.
Emma: you're never talking to me lately & then I get that song? Like, y am I even surprised. This is so sick. It's all your fault how we've grown apart.
I felt my heart sink to my stomach as a tear slipped out. My fault of how we've grown apart? I didn't even realize we were growing apart...
I got up, my knees wobbling slightly as I made my way towards the my box.
Emma: we shouldn't be friends anymore.
My fault, my fault, my fault.. Her words rang in my head as I brought the blade to me. Why am I doing this, I promised I never would again, how can I, why... Why? My fault, my fault, my fault. And then I took it and slowly brought it across my thigh. I watched in shock as blood slowly bubbled up, as if I was expecting any other result. And then I drew it across again. And again. Cut cut cut. One two three four five six... I lost count until my thighs were covered.
Emma: Emery? Are you listening to me? This is YOUR fault! This is why I can't do this.
I looked at my thighs and the pain in my heart quickly covered up my physical pain. I deserve more. I brought my hand up and then I started on my wrist and all the way up my arms and legs, watched the blood drip. Then I lifted up my shirt and started on my stomach, and then my hips, and then my hands. Finally I slowly put the blade down, my hands shaking as blood dripped from them. I was scared. I stared at the tiny, shiny object in my hand and then in a rapid movement, it was in the trash. I climbed to my feet, listening as my phone continues to buzz, and went to the bathroom in only my undergarments. Drip drip drip. The blood patterned the floor in red. I started a cold bath and the water filled the bathtub and I sank into it, viciously scrubbing at the now dry beads, my heart throbbing as well. Then everything slowly lifted off and I realized why it was the addiction no one should ever start.
When my mom came home I slowly led her to the couch, and then told what I had done to myself. I knew I couldn't hide it. She hugged me, but that was that, and I went back to bed, wincing as I relaxed. Buzz buzz
Really? She wants to torture me more after all of this, why can't she just- I stopped and looked at the text.
Abigail: are you okay?
I breathed in and then out.
Me: I will be