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Occupy your mind.

A hand is thrown towards me and latches onto my wrist. But I can’t feel anything.

“I thought I told you not to go anywhere tonight, huh?” My father’s voice is raspy, almost sad.

He shoves me into the wall, and I hear him scream before grabbing a fist full of my hair as he brings me towards him.

I can’t feel anything.

“YOU CAN NEVER DO ANYTHING RIGHT!”

He can scream until his voice breaks, and I still feel nothing. I should feel something, fear, anger, guilt maybe, anything. But it’s all empty. He pushes me out of the kitchen and I make my way to my room, not knowing exactly how to react.

I’m supposed to break, cry, or even hide, but I just walk.

When I close the door of my bedroom behind me, I lock it. Only then do I realize I’m still wearing his shirt. For a few seconds I stay there, staring at the fabric against my skin, trying to understand how this can feel so warm and so uncomfortable at the same time. His scent is still here. It makes me sick.

So, I pull it off, throw it onto the floor, and walk to my bathroom. The drawers are quickly open beneath my hands. The cabinets too.

I grab the pills, not even trying to count them. And take them all at once. I need them to work. I need it more than anything. To quiet everything, to make me remember what it feels like to be inside my own body again. But nothing changes.

I sit on the cold floor, a blade between my fingers, and trace long lines on my skin. The pain, the blood… it’s supposed to bring me back. But even that isn’t enough.

No…

Maybe I’m too far gone now. Maybe it’s too late.

The morning comes fast and I’m still staring at the ceiling. The noise stopped, the thoughts too. I force myself into the shower, scrubbing hard, washing away the dry blood. I use a bandage around my wrist.

Everyone needs to believe I’m okay. Last night didn’t change anything. Maybe it did change everything…

The illusion I built for months now, the healing, the feeling that I was getting better, it all cracked. One lie, one night, one blade. That was all it had taken to ruin it all.

I know now, it will happen again. If this is the price of surviving and making sure Milo gets the life he deserves, I’ll pay it.

I can’t fall apart at St. Ellesta, not now that all that’s left is one semester. The last one.

Burying the ache beneath discipline, locking every dark thought somewhere deep enough to not interfere with it, is what I can do instead.

I sent a text to Edna this morning before taking the road back to campus. She sent me a picture of Milo and Blue sleeping together and for the first time since I left last night, my heart warmed up again.

No one will see the girl who relapsed a few hours ago, no one will see the girl who hurts herself to feel, because I am a big sister, and I have to keep pretending.

88

Mireya

Play - Shadows by Goddess, Ex:Re

Cutthroat

This week has been rough. Training got more intense and the headaches too.

“Ms Vitelli,” I hear Mr Porter say, and I instantly snap out of my intrusive thoughts, coming back to the lesson and the task at hand. Our firearm trainer is not here today, apparently he won’t be here for a few days, and the headmaster takes this role pretty seriously.

“Yes, sir, sorry…” I mutter, and he goes back to addressing the rest of the class.

“Very well… As I was saying, do I have any volunteers to stand in front of the target?”