The Truth About Prom Queens and Other Fancy Things.

“Emmy wake up darling,” Helen gently rocked my body.

“I’m not going to school,” I sleepily said and rolled over so my back faced her.

“I know,” She said those two words with such disappointment.

This struck my curiosity. I rolled my body back over to face her. I winced at the ache that was so prominent in my thighs. I’d have to learn to cut somewhere else soon. Shorts would soon be back in. And not little girly shorts. The kind of shorts that looked like jean underwear would soon be in again.

Maybe I’d start on my breasts. Sure, preps got away with a lot at our school. But, no nudity was aloud.

“What do you mean?” I rubbed at my aching throat.

“I let you miss the first day because I know you aren’t feeling very well right now.”

I smiled. Mothers knew everything about their kids. How they know is still a big mystery to me. “How’d you know?”

She looked at me from the feet up. “You’re wearing emo clothes. That’s what’s terribly wrong here Emma.”

I felt my lips sag at the ends. The only thing that she saw wrong with me was my wardrobe. She didn’t know about the depression. I wondered if I should tell her, to just get it out of the way once and for all.

I was never good at keeping secrets. I’d accidentally tell all the time. But, no one but Blake knew about my depression. He didn’t understand it. He thought that he was the reason for all my sadness. He was dead wrong. No matter what I said he still thought it was his entire fault.

Blake.

I sighed and I wanted to smack myself for thinking about him again.

He’s not coming back. He hates you. He thinks you’re fat. He always hated you. You made his life a living Hell. Everyone’s better off without you. Maybe if you ended everything, things would be so much better for everyone else. I scolded myself.

“Emma?” Helen tilted her head at me. I had completely forgotten she was even there.

I took a deep breath and parted my lips. Now was my chance to tell her everything. “I’m fine Mom-“ Shit. “-Everything’s fine. I just wanted to try some different clothes.”

“If you say so,” She smiled at me, and walked out of my room without saying another word.

As soon as I heard her tiny footsteps disappear my hand went under the bed and I found the Converse box. I pulled it out and shook the box. The clanking of the object inside made me feel the only form of excitement I knew now. I slowly opened the shoebox and there, all by itself, was my pride and joy.

I grabbed the serrated knife. I tilted it up so I could see my eyes. This was my ritual before the big bang.

“Look at the whore. I hate that bitch so much,” I whispered to myself.

I undid my belt and pulled down my pants. I placed the knife just under my underwear and pressed hard. A moan of satisfaction erupted from my throat. I slid the knife to the right oh so slowly and watched a thin stream of blood pour down my pale leg.

I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. It’d been about twelve hours since the last cut. A small, satisfied smile went across my face. A bit of happiness danced in my heart for a second before departing. I now only felt number on the inside. Maybe one more-

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Blake’s voice said from behind me.

I froze out of instinct. I could feel the blood fading from my cheeks. A pit had sunken in my stomach. This feeling was the feeling one got when being caught in the act.

But, for some strange reason butterflies danced in my tummy at the sound of his deep voice. I closed my eyes and I wished for everything to be over.

I heard his footsteps come up behind me. I let my hair fall in front of my face as a last ditch effort to hide my newfound shame. He put a gentle hand on my shoulder and slowly spun me around.

I felt his eyes on my thigh. All the cuts…

There must have been at least fifty fresh cuts. I couldn’t even count the number of scars. Here I was, exposed to the person that tore out my heart and crushed it and then walked away laughing.

I didn’t look up at him. I couldn’t will myself to do something like that. I couldn’t meet those perfect eyes.

He lifted my chin with two of his fingers. I closed my eyes tightly. Hopefully my bangs covered them well enough.

“Why would you do something like this to yourself?” His voice remained steady.

“Why wouldn’t I? I mean after everything…why shouldn’t I?” I let go of my jeans and they dropped around my ankles.

He remained silent. He knew that my pain, my sadness and my self-harm were all from him and his actions the night of Prom. I didn’t know what to do.

As my anxiety grew, my grip only tightened on my knife. I wasn’t going to stab him or anything. I just felt better knowing that I held the key to my happiness. Pain would never humiliate you or leave you. Pain would always be here to watch after you.

“Emma put down the knife please,” He put his hand around mine and I felt an old spark of electricity jump through me.

I swatted him away and turned around. I did this so he wouldn’t see the tears falling down my bloodless face. I focused on the warm blood dripping down my leg. That would give me the strength to do what I had to do now.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend to go fuck?” I put in some sass.

“That doesn’t matter right now-“ He put his hand on my shoulder. “-What matters now is you-“

“Get the fuck out of my room…Now!” I raised my voice and sounded nasty.

“Whatever, then don’t take my help-” I heard his voice get farther and farther away. “-Go ahead and kill yourself you miserable fuck!”

“I just might.”

That wasn’t a lie. That’s all I knew.