The next few moments were a blur. I was now running as fast a my legs would carry me, screaming in dull pain and pleading with my voice to let myself be loud enough that someone would help me, would save me. Running up the stairs, away from him was the best thing I could do. Terror and agony were the only emotions I'd felt in months, I slammed the bathroom door, locking it quickly. As I heard his heavy breathing coming closer to the door I backed as far back as I could before my back hit the wall. Hearing him thumping on the door, petrified my breathing got more frantic, my breasts heaving up and down on my chest. I was too terrified to move, even if it was to save myself from another merciless beating.
It could have been minutes, hours or days before he backed away from the door, to overcome by fear to even notice until his breathing shallowed and became more silent. I took one final deep breath of relief, before my knees gave way and I slid down the tiled wall, curling into a hopeless ball of sadness and pure misery, I then let tears flow freely down my cold face. I wiped them away as quickly as they fell, before seeing something glint in the dim lighting.
Through the practically non-existent beam of light I saw it. A razor blade. It was as if it was calling to me, just as it did before. I reached up to the sideboard and grabbed it with one shaken hand. I shrivelled back up into my place bringing my knees to my chest, pressing the razor forcefully against my forearm, dragging it slowly across my skin in a single diagonal line. I gasped from the burning pain, it wasn't the first time I'd cut, but it was the deepest. I redirected my arm, pressing the razor to my arm once more, again and again. Creating patterned pools of blood along my arm. I continued until I saw fading black stars dance in front of my eyes. Then there was nothing but black.