Light glinted playfully through branches, trying desperately to reach me. I was too far gone but it could try. It was something which would never give up on me. Pity it was the only thing. Lifting my gaze to the canopy above, I began…
One… inching in. Stinging like salt on a new wound.
Two… the pain subsided lazily as the first began to cry.
Three… engulfed with red tears. Exchanging what I had for something real.
Four… gritty sand began to flood. A reflective pool of pain.
Five… marks of misery left me crying. But the tears felt like joy.
My gaze sifted along them. Each cried like new born babies, slowly getting heavier. Everything around me was perfectly silent. The world may as well have stopped moving. I allowed a single, stolen smile. Oh for the things no one could take from me! For the years they took everything about me. For the moments in hell I could not forget. I had now, something of my very own. Something which they could never take. For no one knew. They would never know what they had done to me… No. Not they, they didn’t do this. This was me. I did this. It is my fault and mine alone. Something they could never take the credit for.
Six… skin splitting like a blooming flower.
Seven… Relief was so close. The veil would lift. This veil of secrets I had found.
Long ago I would never have dreamed of this. Never have imagined. But when a nail is removed from a fence, it still leaves the hole behind. One can cover that hole up, paint over it. But the hole is still there. Like me, the fence may look fixed, but inside, termites continue to play. Maybe I waited too long, now it won’t make a difference. It would make a difference to me anyway. I would never again have to relive the years of taunts, of punches and fights. I could leave all that behind. Spiteful gazes and unfriendly faces. Gone. I smiled again. Brokenly this time. My limbs were becoming numb, pins and needles creep up my arms. This was me. All me. I did this. I finally have control. I can at last control my life. When I live, when I die and how I look.
Eight… I couldn’t feel it anymore.
Nine… deeper, deeper. Until I could feel it again.
Ten… I shuddered in the icy air. A smile painted along my lips. Tears dripped from everywhere. Be them salty and silver or red and reflective.
I could say it was like an exchange. The unbearable pain I felt, the pain everyone told me was imagined; for something real, that I could touch, that I could control.
Eleven… one for each punch I remembered.
Twelve… a mist begun to shroud my sight.
An ugly pain beat against my skull. More imaginary pain I supposed; so I went again, a little bit quicker.
Thirteen… I grazed something hard.
Fourteen… the thudding waned.
Fifteen… only real pain again.
Fog thickened over my sight. I couldn’t hear my pulse anymore, the way you usually could in your ears. I had to lie down, I couldn’t hold myself up. All I could manage was the glee. Because I did this to me. It was all me. No one else. At last I held the controller in my hand, in my mind. Music played softly through my head. No song in particular, just a mix of my life. They were terrible songs. Terrible lyrics. For a terrible life. If I spent the whole of my existence in hell, it would be better than here. I was ready. Ready to leave. I was right, hell would be better. I was ready for the last one now.
My fingers trembled in heavy anticipation. The light which still could not reach me glinted off the sharp edge. Weapon in hand. I lifted it. Raised it. Ever so slowly. My hand dragging across the ground. I couldn’t feel the cool mud I had played in as a child. I couldn’t taste the moisture surrounding me. Out of one eye, everything was tinged red. Red. Red with my blood. Red with my pain. Red with my history that I was about to abandoned. A smile tugged at lips which didn’t feel like my own. My hand was there. It was at its final destination. At the place I would leave it when I escaped. The edge bit skin. I pressed a little harder. And harder again. A final breath of foul air was drawn into my lungs. I closed my eyes. And drew the blade over taught skin.
Sixteen… one for each year I lived.
I tried to gasp again. I couldn’t. The air just escaped. The pipe which had once supplied life to my lungs, was cut. I used my eyes a final time, and gazed down at the scars which would never have a chance to heal.
One… inching in. Stinging like salt on a new wound.
Two… the pain subsided lazily as the first began to cry.
Three… engulfed with red tears. Exchanging what I had for something real.
Four… gritty sand began to flood. A reflective pool of pain.
Five… marks of misery left me crying. But the tears felt like joy.
My gaze sifted along them. Each cried like new born babies, slowly getting heavier. Everything around me was perfectly silent. The world may as well have stopped moving. I allowed a single, stolen smile. Oh for the things no one could take from me! For the years they took everything about me. For the moments in hell I could not forget. I had now, something of my very own. Something which they could never take. For no one knew. They would never know what they had done to me… No. Not they, they didn’t do this. This was me. I did this. It is my fault and mine alone. Something they could never take the credit for.
Six… skin splitting like a blooming flower.
Seven… Relief was so close. The veil would lift. This veil of secrets I had found.
Long ago I would never have dreamed of this. Never have imagined. But when a nail is removed from a fence, it still leaves the hole behind. One can cover that hole up, paint over it. But the hole is still there. Like me, the fence may look fixed, but inside, termites continue to play. Maybe I waited too long, now it won’t make a difference. It would make a difference to me anyway. I would never again have to relive the years of taunts, of punches and fights. I could leave all that behind. Spiteful gazes and unfriendly faces. Gone. I smiled again. Brokenly this time. My limbs were becoming numb, pins and needles creep up my arms. This was me. All me. I did this. I finally have control. I can at last control my life. When I live, when I die and how I look.
Eight… I couldn’t feel it anymore.
Nine… deeper, deeper. Until I could feel it again.
Ten… I shuddered in the icy air. A smile painted along my lips. Tears dripped from everywhere. Be them salty and silver or red and reflective.
I could say it was like an exchange. The unbearable pain I felt, the pain everyone told me was imagined; for something real, that I could touch, that I could control.
Eleven… one for each punch I remembered.
Twelve… a mist begun to shroud my sight.
An ugly pain beat against my skull. More imaginary pain I supposed; so I went again, a little bit quicker.
Thirteen… I grazed something hard.
Fourteen… the thudding waned.
Fifteen… only real pain again.
Fog thickened over my sight. I couldn’t hear my pulse anymore, the way you usually could in your ears. I had to lie down, I couldn’t hold myself up. All I could manage was the glee. Because I did this to me. It was all me. No one else. At last I held the controller in my hand, in my mind. Music played softly through my head. No song in particular, just a mix of my life. They were terrible songs. Terrible lyrics. For a terrible life. If I spent the whole of my existence in hell, it would be better than here. I was ready. Ready to leave. I was right, hell would be better. I was ready for the last one now.
My fingers trembled in heavy anticipation. The light which still could not reach me glinted off the sharp edge. Weapon in hand. I lifted it. Raised it. Ever so slowly. My hand dragging across the ground. I couldn’t feel the cool mud I had played in as a child. I couldn’t taste the moisture surrounding me. Out of one eye, everything was tinged red. Red. Red with my blood. Red with my pain. Red with my history that I was about to abandoned. A smile tugged at lips which didn’t feel like my own. My hand was there. It was at its final destination. At the place I would leave it when I escaped. The edge bit skin. I pressed a little harder. And harder again. A final breath of foul air was drawn into my lungs. I closed my eyes. And drew the blade over taught skin.
Sixteen… one for each year I lived.
I tried to gasp again. I couldn’t. The air just escaped. The pipe which had once supplied life to my lungs, was cut. I used my eyes a final time, and gazed down at the scars which would never have a chance to heal.
RedTears
