Mad World

“Come on, India. It’s been three weeks.” My sister pats my back with sympathy. “Forget about that guy. Let’s go get some ice cream or catch a movie.”

“I’ll pass.” I mumble under my sheets, burying myself deeper into my bed.

“Please? I haven’t spent any time with you since Ryan…”

“Mary, please leave me alone. I just want to sleep for a little while longer okay?” I feel the tears trying to escape my eyes. I blink them away and sigh deeply, hoping Mary will get the point and leave me be.

“Fine. Be emo.” Mary stomps out of the room. Relief washes over me. I sit up and wipe away the tears that managed to stream down my face.

Ryan was my fiancé. We’d been engaged for over a year, and now that’s all over. He left me for another girl- for my best friend, to be more precise.

The worst part about it is Christmas is only a few weeks away. Ryan and I had plans to go to the Bahamas for a little Christmas vacation. That’s all a thing of the past now.

Ryan kicked me out of our little house on main street. He invited Demi- my supposed best friend- to move in with him shortly after. I saw them walking around in the supermarket together the other day. Holding hands. A sparkly band hugged Demi’s left ring finger.

He proposed.

Demi Tyson and Ryan Mulkston are engaged to be married in February of next year. Valentine’s day to be exact. How sweet, right? Makes me want to barf.

I slam my fist into the wall. I feel my knuckles crack under the force, but feel no pain. I keep smashing the wall with my fist until it’s bloody and sporting a new hole. I feel the tears press against the back of my eyes. I close them in hopes to force the tears away- no luck there.

I break down for the third time this morning and curl up on my bed, clutching my bloody fist with a random T-shirt. I rest my head against the wall and try to remember a better time. A time when I could call Ryan when I felt like this. I could cry and scream and bitch and he would just listen. Just loyally listen.

I feel the urge to punch something rise in my stomach again and take a deep, shaky breath. Nothing makes sense anymore without him.

My legs take over my brain and send me to the bathroom. My hands ignore my thoughts and reach for the razor blade in the medicine cabinet. The blade bites my arm, chews down to the bone. I surrender to his touch and let him work his magic.

Twelve gashes he carves into my arm, just enough to spell out RMC- Ryan’s initials. I watch the crimson tears fall from the wounds onto the hardwood floor beneath my feet. For once, I don’t reach for the towels to clean up the mess. But for once, I don’t really care.

I cut more gashes into my arms. I cut and cut and cut until I lose feeling in my wrist and involuntarily drop the blade onto the floor. I watch the blood pulse from the cuts. I lose myself in the numbness taking over my body; slowly, from my arms all the way to my legs.

I see Ryan standing in the doorway. He tells me not to be scared. I watch him with awe and let my eyes slowly close. I don’t plan to wake up, and I’m fine with that.