She clutches the phone tight as the SMS swims in murky lines under her blurred vision. 'Arre you can't be hurt! That's not allowed!' Tears pool in her eyes as she hits the down arrow and sees the date the message was sent. Of course he wouldn't say that now. Now he'd probably ask if the tears were all she had to offer, if she couldn't possibly jump off the fifth floor, or - she gets off the bed, goes to the medicine cabinet. Pulls out the scissors.
I don't like you. Slash.
I wasn't talking to you. She grips the scissors harder. The pain's starting to stop, to be taken over by a greater hurt.
She's always like this. She drives the blade deeper, ignoring the stab the remembered words send shooting up her spine.
If you want to know what NOT to do, just look at her. A moan escapes her. She carefully cuts at her skin, not wanting to actually slash through a vein. Irony. She wouldn't have an explanation if they managed to save her, if she didn't die. She wasn't meant to hear that last statement. If that makes it better.
The salt from her tears runs into the blood, and she hisses. Yes, she, the impenetrable one, the ice queen. The one who hurts without getting hurt. The tiger, the dragon, the scorpion. No one understands. No one knows. She has no words to tell them, and anyway, it's too late. Everyone's already heard his version. Why make things worse with hers?
She watches the blood seep onto the floor. Makes a mental note to clean it before the ayah comes in. She wipes the blade clean, puts the scissors inside, and closes the cupboard. Dedicating time to each job. She gets into bed and picks up her phone. Her hand hovers over the 'delete' button.
She can't get herself to delete it, and fresh tears start up in dry heaves. She's gotten over him. But she can't get over her best friend betraying her, becoming the opposition, the person who spoke maliciously of her one minute, and smiled at her as she approached the next.
She sighs. The storm's passed. She backspaces, locks the keypad, and puts the phone away. To be looked at again, the next time he called her name. To be ruminated over when she can't erupt at him and get it over with. Another day's come to an end. She rolls onto her stomach, and falls asleep.
I don't like you. Slash.
I wasn't talking to you. She grips the scissors harder. The pain's starting to stop, to be taken over by a greater hurt.
She's always like this. She drives the blade deeper, ignoring the stab the remembered words send shooting up her spine.
If you want to know what NOT to do, just look at her. A moan escapes her. She carefully cuts at her skin, not wanting to actually slash through a vein. Irony. She wouldn't have an explanation if they managed to save her, if she didn't die. She wasn't meant to hear that last statement. If that makes it better.
The salt from her tears runs into the blood, and she hisses. Yes, she, the impenetrable one, the ice queen. The one who hurts without getting hurt. The tiger, the dragon, the scorpion. No one understands. No one knows. She has no words to tell them, and anyway, it's too late. Everyone's already heard his version. Why make things worse with hers?
She watches the blood seep onto the floor. Makes a mental note to clean it before the ayah comes in. She wipes the blade clean, puts the scissors inside, and closes the cupboard. Dedicating time to each job. She gets into bed and picks up her phone. Her hand hovers over the 'delete' button.
She can't get herself to delete it, and fresh tears start up in dry heaves. She's gotten over him. But she can't get over her best friend betraying her, becoming the opposition, the person who spoke maliciously of her one minute, and smiled at her as she approached the next.
She sighs. The storm's passed. She backspaces, locks the keypad, and puts the phone away. To be looked at again, the next time he called her name. To be ruminated over when she can't erupt at him and get it over with. Another day's come to an end. She rolls onto her stomach, and falls asleep.
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