I never thought it would be me, I never imagined I would be the one lying on this cold piece of fabric. In a cold room that smelled like cleaning chemicals. Under the unnatural bright lights that seemed to blind me. Surrounded by white walls with flowers on them, I couldn't even believe the nurses.
"They help cheer up the patients here. It makes them feel like they're in a happier place." The nurse smiled at me while she put the I.V. back in my arm. That's such bullshit ya know? Who is actually going to be happy in this place. An endless place of sickness, sadness, and death. I used to be happy, when I was like eleven years old. I can't say I got good grades, because I sure as hell didn't. I was the girl that could careless if I did the homework. I didn't get bullied either, maybe once or twice by a group of stupid girls. But I knew they were stupid, they were just drowning in jealousy. I didn't care what they said. That never got to me, I got to myself. I didn't crush on guys, I thought some were cute, but I knew underneath the charm and kindness there was an asshole. I didn't and still don't think I'm beautiful. I have thoughts about myself that I shouldn't. I don't deserve a great guy, or a good friend. No one cares about me because there's nothing to care about. I never let anyone in afraid I would destroy them, so I kept to myself.
Go back about four years, I was a sophomore in high school. Grades were passing, barely, didn't have friends, duh. I would go to school, walk home, then have a snack when I got there. My mother didn't talk to me, didn't ask how my day was, simply couldn't care. Every night I would sink into a dark hole, every night a bit deeper. I would turn my lamp off and I would feel completely eaten up by darkness. I would cry, that's when I found my first friend. A piece of metal I found in my mom and dads bathroom, a blade. The first time felt weird, I was purposely forming cuts on myself. I remember thinking about when I was a little girl, running around the backyard, the sun shining on the light green grass. Lighting up my green eyes my mother told me. My long wavy chestnut hair jumping as I ran, I tripped on a tree root. Scraped up my knee pretty good, I remember crying a lot. My mom putting this stuff on it to keep it clean, it stung like nothing else. Then there I was, fifteen, sitting in my bedroom in the dark with only my television light hitting me. A blade in between my fingers, putting scrapes into my soft skin. Except this time my mother wouldn't be putting that stuff that stung on it, I wouldn't cry or scream. No one would even know about it. There was no one there to ask about me. Music really helped me through that time, I listened to Alternative, that's it. That's all I needed.
About a year later my body was pretty destroyed. Old scars, newer scars, blood stained marks. No one ever found out about my secret urge, the urge to mutilate myself. I felt that I needed it, this secret craving that no one else new about. I would lose myself while doing it, it seemed to help me. Then there was my seventeenth birthday, let me tell you, I never crushed on anyone, not even talked to anyone. But this guy was an exception, I never crushed on him, I always thought he was a douche bag. It turned out he wasn't all I thought he was. For whatever reason my mom had invited some of her friends to my little get together seventeenth birthday. Somewhere along the way of the inviting this guy found out. He showed up at my doorstep, I knew who he was I just didn't know why he showed up. His name was Bentley, Bentley Carson. He was dreamy I might add, he had these dark brown eyes that you could get lost in, he was blonde, he had wavy dirty blonde hair. He had perfectly sculpted lips, I could've bit them all day. He walked in and I had asked why he was here. He said that he liked me and that he wanted to see me. Weird right? A guy I had never talked to or barely looked at liked me.
A couple hours later we were still talking. He found me mysterious, he couldn't figure me out. We ended up slamming against my bedroom door while my parents were taking my family home. We were making out in my bedroom on my bed. I opened my eyes up to see all of my blades laying on my dresser. I scooted them off with my hand as he pushed me on my bed. He started subtracting my clothes. My heart started to sink, he would be the first to know my secret urges. By the time I was completely bare he was sliding his rough hand up my arm and felt all the bumps from my scars. His eyes quickly opened as he looked down at my body. I had told him everything, absolutely everything. He pulled me in and kissed me, ever so lightly. I pulled him back on top of me and we had passionate yet rough sex. We had just finished by the time he had to go. He told me never to do it again, and he gave me his number. I never texted it until he texted me one night.
"Hey I'm going to this party and it's going to be wicked fun, it might help take some of those urges away. You should come with me." I stared at the screen, I replied with Okay see you soon. I quickly got ready and drove myself over to the address he gave me. I walked up and there he was, standing there. I wasn't in love with him I had convinced myself, but secretly I was. We walked in together, not holding hands or anything, we just walked in together. It wasn't a crazy party, no crazy lights, just a normal house with a couple groups of people. A few hours later I saw him take out a bag. A plastic bag I can remember clearly. Inside of it was a needle, cold glass needle. It was full of something, and I still am not quite sure what it was. But he told me we would to it together and that it was like walking in a world with no problems when you took it. I knew it was a drug, but yet I still injected it into my arm. A guy I had loved deep down got me hooked on drugs. By the time I was eighteen I was already on the street, I was so hooked on drugs that I had let it destroy everything. My parents couldn't take it so they kicked me out. I lived in alleys with a little box with some clothes and money. Money I had spent on drugs. One day that hole came back, and I injected every drug I had into my body. I remember everything being blurry and then a face showed up, a beautiful man with black hair. He had crooked teeth sort of and he was wearing a grey sweater. I faintly heard him screaming something, then dialing a number on his phone. I was lying there on the cold cement floor with this strangers arm around me. I blacked out, then when I woke up I was here. I don't know who that man was, but I intend to find out. Thank him for saving me, because inside I truly didn't want to die.