A Flick of the Wrist
How It Happened
I never meant to kill myself. I never meant to make that last fatal cut, it was simply an accidental flick of the wrist. It’s not true that every self-harming person wants to die, maybe most do but not all. All I wanted was a temporary escape, a drug-free high and maybe a quick glimpse of that crimson color I love so much. I didn’t mean to end my life, I promise.
It never would have killed me if Isabel hadn’t run into my room at the worst time, scaring me and simultaneously making me press the blade just a little too far into my warm skin. I’m not in any way blaming her though, she’s too young to understand the privacy a teenage girl craves when she’s locked in her room. She’s also too young to understand that when you see your older sister lying on the floor with blood flowing freely out of her freshly carved arm you’re supposed to get help. She just left, confused. Unaware of the severity of this situation.
When my mom found me that night, it was too late. I had only a few dozen heartbeats left inside, and they were quickly disappearing. She was mortified at the sight in front of her, one daughter near death on her bedroom floor and another confused young daughter walking about the house with blood on her feet, staining the white carpet. She shrieked. That’s the last thing I heard before I faded out, and I’m pretty sure I only lived for a short period of time after that anyway.
The doctors tried as they could, but to no avail. I was too far gone for them to be of any help. They put on their sorrowful masquerade masks and apologized to my sobbing mother, without a hint of true sympathy in their voices. I didn’t impact their lives in any way, anyway. They would simply go to their next long gone patients and forget about in a matter of hours. My mother however would never forget, she would never forget the loss of her eldest daughter. Isabel would never forget either, but she would never understand until years later due to her young age. I fear the day she realizes what has happened to me. I fear the day she realizes what I have done.
I never meant to wake up in a grave.
It never would have killed me if Isabel hadn’t run into my room at the worst time, scaring me and simultaneously making me press the blade just a little too far into my warm skin. I’m not in any way blaming her though, she’s too young to understand the privacy a teenage girl craves when she’s locked in her room. She’s also too young to understand that when you see your older sister lying on the floor with blood flowing freely out of her freshly carved arm you’re supposed to get help. She just left, confused. Unaware of the severity of this situation.
When my mom found me that night, it was too late. I had only a few dozen heartbeats left inside, and they were quickly disappearing. She was mortified at the sight in front of her, one daughter near death on her bedroom floor and another confused young daughter walking about the house with blood on her feet, staining the white carpet. She shrieked. That’s the last thing I heard before I faded out, and I’m pretty sure I only lived for a short period of time after that anyway.
The doctors tried as they could, but to no avail. I was too far gone for them to be of any help. They put on their sorrowful masquerade masks and apologized to my sobbing mother, without a hint of true sympathy in their voices. I didn’t impact their lives in any way, anyway. They would simply go to their next long gone patients and forget about in a matter of hours. My mother however would never forget, she would never forget the loss of her eldest daughter. Isabel would never forget either, but she would never understand until years later due to her young age. I fear the day she realizes what has happened to me. I fear the day she realizes what I have done.
I never meant to wake up in a grave.
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so this is kind of like a prologue to the story. and i'm not exactly sure how this will end, i'll be making it up as i go. i'd love any comments/crit you have, and please subscribe my loves. <3