Status: In Progress
The Last Time
How To Cope
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The aroma of grape slushie is over powering my nose.
"Morning Man-Hands." Quinn Fabray, Head cheerleader, snickers as she passes.
"My bad, Freak of the Week. You're welcome for helping improve your outfit though." Noah Puckerman high fives Finn Hudson and they elbow passed me.
I swallow hard as I wipe the cold ice flakes from my face and run to the bathroom. I stare at the girl in the mirror. I watch as tears well up in her eyes as the purple streaks run down her face. I'm just so tired of this. The cruel words, the slushies, the judgement from everyone. I don't know what to do. How to make it stop, how to make it better. All I know is how to cope with it.
I reach into my bag and pull out the small compact. I slowly open it and the cool silver blade looking back calms me. I carefully pick it up and pull up my sleeve. There's not a lot of room but I manage. I push the sharp edge to my skin and drag the blade across it slowly. The tearing of skin feels nice, like an old friend. My only friend. I wrap my arm in a paper towel after finishing washing off what I could from the slushie and make my way to the choir room. I sit at the piano and start to play. No one hears me sing. That's my own escape that I would die if anyone ever insulted. Music is my haven.
Little girl terrified
She'd leave her room if only bruises would heal
A home is no place to hide
Her heart is breaking from the pain that she feels
Every day's the same
She fights to find her way
She hurts, she breaks, she hides, and tries to pray
She wonders why, does anyone ever hear her when she cries
Today she's turning seventeen
Everyone singing, but she can't seem to smile
They never get past arms length
How could they act like everything is alright?
She's pulling down her long sleeves
To cover all the memories that scars leave
She says, "maybe making me bleed
will be the answer that could wash the slate clean"
This is the dark before the dawn
The storm before the peace
Don't be afraid 'cause seasons change and
God is watching over you
He hears you
Every day's the same
She fights to find her way
She hurts, she breaks, she hides, and tries to pray
She'll be just fine, cause now he hears her when she cries
Every day's the same
She fights to find her way
She hurts, she breaks, she hides, and tries to pray
She'll be just fine, cause now he hears her when she cries
She'll be just fine, cause now he hears her when she cries.
I sigh and look down. The paper towel has fallen away and the blood has soaked through my shirt and left smears of blood on the piano keys.
"Did you write that?" A familiar voice startles me.
"Why are you here? To insult me some more?" I ask.
"No, I just heard the music and came to see who it was." She looks down, at the piano.
"Well you found out. If you don't mind I have to go." I stand up and brush past her.
"Rachel." She catches my wrist and I spin around.
"What Quinn?"
"You're bleeding." I look down and see that she's grabbed onto my open wrist. Her hand reddish with blood.
"Yeah, I know." I take my arm back and start to go again.
"Wait!" She calls out but I don't. I don't stop or care what she has to say. She's the problem, the cause of a lot of my pain, the reason I was in that choir room anyway. And it's not like she even cares. She's just going to use this against me by next period anyway.
"Morning Man-Hands." Quinn Fabray, Head cheerleader, snickers as she passes.
"My bad, Freak of the Week. You're welcome for helping improve your outfit though." Noah Puckerman high fives Finn Hudson and they elbow passed me.
I swallow hard as I wipe the cold ice flakes from my face and run to the bathroom. I stare at the girl in the mirror. I watch as tears well up in her eyes as the purple streaks run down her face. I'm just so tired of this. The cruel words, the slushies, the judgement from everyone. I don't know what to do. How to make it stop, how to make it better. All I know is how to cope with it.
I reach into my bag and pull out the small compact. I slowly open it and the cool silver blade looking back calms me. I carefully pick it up and pull up my sleeve. There's not a lot of room but I manage. I push the sharp edge to my skin and drag the blade across it slowly. The tearing of skin feels nice, like an old friend. My only friend. I wrap my arm in a paper towel after finishing washing off what I could from the slushie and make my way to the choir room. I sit at the piano and start to play. No one hears me sing. That's my own escape that I would die if anyone ever insulted. Music is my haven.
Little girl terrified
She'd leave her room if only bruises would heal
A home is no place to hide
Her heart is breaking from the pain that she feels
Every day's the same
She fights to find her way
She hurts, she breaks, she hides, and tries to pray
She wonders why, does anyone ever hear her when she cries
Today she's turning seventeen
Everyone singing, but she can't seem to smile
They never get past arms length
How could they act like everything is alright?
She's pulling down her long sleeves
To cover all the memories that scars leave
She says, "maybe making me bleed
will be the answer that could wash the slate clean"
This is the dark before the dawn
The storm before the peace
Don't be afraid 'cause seasons change and
God is watching over you
He hears you
Every day's the same
She fights to find her way
She hurts, she breaks, she hides, and tries to pray
She'll be just fine, cause now he hears her when she cries
Every day's the same
She fights to find her way
She hurts, she breaks, she hides, and tries to pray
She'll be just fine, cause now he hears her when she cries
She'll be just fine, cause now he hears her when she cries.
I sigh and look down. The paper towel has fallen away and the blood has soaked through my shirt and left smears of blood on the piano keys.
"Did you write that?" A familiar voice startles me.
"Why are you here? To insult me some more?" I ask.
"No, I just heard the music and came to see who it was." She looks down, at the piano.
"Well you found out. If you don't mind I have to go." I stand up and brush past her.
"Rachel." She catches my wrist and I spin around.
"What Quinn?"
"You're bleeding." I look down and see that she's grabbed onto my open wrist. Her hand reddish with blood.
"Yeah, I know." I take my arm back and start to go again.
"Wait!" She calls out but I don't. I don't stop or care what she has to say. She's the problem, the cause of a lot of my pain, the reason I was in that choir room anyway. And it's not like she even cares. She's just going to use this against me by next period anyway.