Broken Angel

The title pretty much sums it up. I'm a broken angel and this is my story.

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10. It's Finally Come To This (Part II)

It was probably 10 or 11, maybe midnight as I sat on my bed surrounded by total and complete darkness.

I had put my headphones in and played some music. Sad music. It's what I usually do on weekends when I can't stay up late on school nights. It's what I do when I'm especially depressed. Like I am now.

I let the music drown out everything around me. It felt like a big, warm, welcoming hug. I've always loved music. It was my escape. I don't know where I'd be without it.

"By Now" by Marianas Trench started to play and my blood went cold. I could already feel the tears stinging the corners of my eyes. I hugged my knees tightly, pressing them against my chest.

I closed my eyes as tight as I could and grit my teeth as the lyrics filled my ears.

"And you've been taking me for granted

And I thought you'd feel the same as me

It's time that I come clean, but

But for now can we just both pretend to sleep

Sometimes the one you want is not the one you need

What goes around don't come around

You should know me by now."

I couldn't hold back the tears that were seeping through the invisible barriers on my eyes. I couldn't fight this feeling anymore. The depression, the feelings I've been bottling up inside. I had to let it all out.

So I cried.

As much as I hated it, I cried. I hated the weak and vulnerable feeling it came with but I had come to the point where it didn't matter because I had gone over the edge.

I gripped the sheets under me with all the strength and frustration in me and felt the warm drops of salt water run down my cheeks and splash down on my legs or the bed.

My hand instinctively slid under my pillow and came back out with a knife. My trusty pocket knife that's always been there for me. My only friend in moments like these.

Before I could press the slightly dull knife to my bare right arm, clean of cuts, my mind drifted. I looked through the small crack of my door towards the bathroom. I could already picture it in my head.

Blood mixed with water surrouding my body as I lay in a bathtub in the pitch black bathroom. The blood pouring from my veins, turning the clear water into a dark scarlet. My vision getting blurred, my head lazily swaying with dizziness. My eyelids growing heavier as life slips out through my veins and I'm left laying there, taking my last breath in a tub full of my own blood. Alone, with only death there to comfort me.

Death.

That seemed like the only option right now.

I quickly took action and closed my knife, grabbing my phone before leaving my room. Immediately as I picked my phone up I got a message. It was Alejandro. We were talking before and I just left him mid conversation. Yeah, we still talked and were friends, nothing more.

I just ignored him and locked my phone. There was no way he could help me. No one could.

I slowly closed my bedroom door and tiptoed into the bathroom. I quietly closed the door and made sure to lock it. I crouched into the bathtub and placed my phone and knife in front of me.

I slowly reached for the knife and flipped it open, running a finger over the dull blade. I wanted to do this. I needed to. It was the only way.

How else was all of this pain supposed to go away?

I placed the knife on my skin, my hand shaking uncontrollably. I closed my eyes as the voices in my head taunted me, harassed me.

You're fucking pathetic. He doesn't love you and he never will. He loves her not you. Who would love a girl who cuts? You're ugly.

Useless.

Worthless.

Fat.

Unlovable.

Waste of fucking space.

Nobody loves you and they never will.

Everyone would be better off if you were dead you worthless piece of shit.

I applied pressure to my arm.

Go on. Do it. DO IT!

I sliced the knife across my skin in anger and frustration. I watched as a red line slowly formed in front of my eyes. The stinging pain felt amazing.

I made another cut right.

One cut turned into 20 in a matter of seconds. I dropped the knife on the tub floor and stared at the artwork on my arms made by myself.

I leaned my head back as the tears streamed down my face. My hands, at my sides, were still shaking. I reached a hand out and placed it over the shower dial.

I was tempted to turn it on, let the water surround me and take the pain away. For good.

But I was scared.

Terrified.

I grabbed my phone and unlocked it. The first person I thought about messaging was Jill and that's what I did.

With shaking fingers I typed:

Me: Jill, please, are you there? Please, help me.

It might've sounded desperate but at this point I was scared and afraid. I needed somebody to talk to. She finally responded:

Jill: Sarah, what's wrong? Is everything ok?

Me: Jill...I did something bad.

I looked at my marked arms and back to my phone, more tears streaming down my face.

Jill: Sarah, what are you talking about? What's going on? And why aren't you answering Alejandro?!

I quickly checked my Kik and I indeed had recieved a lot of messages from Alejandro. He sounded really worried. Shit! Now they were worried about me and I felt like a complete ass for doing this to them.

Me: Jill I'm so sorry. Please, come here I need you. I'm fucking scared.

My hands still wouldn't stop shaking and my tears were blurring my vision, making it hard to read Jill's response.

Jill: Everything is going to be okay. Remember what's in August? The One Direction concert! Think about them, Sarah.

I started to get emotional and cry even more. I just wanted the fucking pain to go away. All of it.

Me: Jill, please go to sleep. For me. I love you. Please go to sleep.

Jill: OMG SARAH WHATS GOING ON NO.

Me: JILL JUST PLEASE GO TO SLEEP I PROMISE IM OKAY.

I left Jill and went back to check on Alejandro. I never responded to him.

Me: I'm sorry and I'm fine. Just go to sleep. Please. Thanks.

I locked my phone and grabbed my knife before stepping out of the tub. I put them on the sink while I washed the dried up blood off of my arms and dabbed it dry with some toilet paper.

The cuts were much deeper than the last time. Probably because I was more driven with self hatred and frustration. They were going to take longer to heal, but it's whatever. I deserved it anyway.

My breath was calming down but still a little shaky. My hands were a little less shaky as well.

I closed the bathroom door before I exited as if a near death experience never happened in there, and retreated into my room. I found a nice long sleeved shirt and put it on before slipping into bed and tucking the knife safely under my pillow.

I'm sorry.

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