Status: New Story. (:

With The Scars You Left Me

Outside Looking In.

Almost a week, I thought. I had gone almost a week without hurting myself.

His haunting face behind my eyelids wasn't as prominent, but still disturbing. The dreams weren't as harsh.

But then again, I could only kid myself for so hard. Who was I trying to fool? No one but myself.
I felt drained, worthless, disgusted.

The once clean blade, glinting against the lights in the bathroom was covered in thick blood, staining the white tiles of the shower, the crimson lines on my thighs taunting it.

The tears streamed down my face effortlessly, mixing with the blood once they hit the floor.

I could never do anything right, and no one was ever going to stop and try to help me. That much I knew.

No one wants damaged goods, and no one has the time to repair them. I was worthless in my eyes, as well in the eyes of other people.

But I didn't want pity.

Because I acted tough, and no one needed to know how I really felt, no matter how much of it was clearly evident when you looked into my eyes.

I refused to come off as weak.

"Weak..." I whispered, droplets of water dribbling off of my lips as I licked them.

I laughed, a dry, fake laugh.

Ignoring the sting of the water against my thighs as they were cleaned raw, the pink skin still tinted red stuck out, making my thighs sore as I walked out of the shower.

I sank against the wall, towel wrapped around my small frame while I let my frustration out, hot angry tears coating my face again.

Why couldn't I stop crying?

Anger at everything leading up to this point in my life was released, my nails digging into the skin on the back of my neck as I buried my face between my forearms.

My sobs quickly became laughs, dry, choppy, maniac laughs.

Pathetic, worthless, weak, unloved, alone, broken. The words kept attacking, hitting me harder each time.

They'd probably pay attention to me if I exposed my body, like all the other girls.

But I wasn't stupid, that wouldn't buy me love.

Did I even want love?

No. yes

I didn't need anyone but myself.

I couldn't trust anyone but myself.

I didn't want to be like any of those girls. Whose boyfriends were all based off of predominantly sexual relationships.

Real love was dead, it died long ago, most likely with chivalry.

Wiping my face with the back of my hands I stood, instantly regretting it as the soreness of my thighs really hit me.

Eight equal strips on each thigh, screaming in protest to the weight being pushed upon them.
Most likely because I'm fat.

I looked down at my stomach, feeling sick as a wave of nausea came over me and I emptied what little contents were in my stomach into the toilet.

Maybe if I'd throw up more, I wouldn't be so fat...

I scolded myself mentally, for adding another reason to hate myself, as if I didn't have enough.

Brushing my teeth, I dressed in loose blue sweatpants and a black sweatshirt, putting on a hoodie over and letting my hair loose, the waves hiding the claw marks I'd left on the back of my neck.

I crawled into my bed, the dampness of my hair clinging to my pillow as I leaned my head against it, pulling my knees up to my chest and turning on my iHome, letting the soft music lull me to sleep.

I was smiling. Drifting over the edge of clouds.

No. I was staring up at the clouds, they were drifting away from me.

I frowned, my curls crinkling around my tiny head as my five year old self scrunched her eyebrows together.

"Why are they running away from me?" she'd ask herself, watching as slowly, but surely, they drifted off, changing shape, and leaving remnants of fluff in the sky, masking the pinkish blue sunset.

"Maybe they want you to chase them." the unfamiliar voice so close to her had startled her.

She hadn't even noticed the little boy lay next to her, his legs sprawled out on the grass and his arms crossed behind his head, his khaki pants rolled up to his ankle and a blue cotton shirt covered in what she presumed was his lunch.

"Teagan, let's go, it's getting dark!" her mothers voice was heard in the distance.

Standing up quickly and wiping off her dress, she ran to the edge of the grass, where the concrete started, before abruptly stopping and turning around.

"Bye- !" she stopped mid-sentence, not knowing his name.

She would've asked, but you see, he was gone.

Waking up with a cold sweat on her brow, she wiped it away, confused.

What a dream.

But it wasn't a dream, she thought.

It was a memory...
♠ ♠ ♠
Sorry I haven't updated in such a long time.
I'm losing interest, due to lack of feedback.
I probably wouldn't have even updated if it weren't due to my mental breakdown last night and my need to write. :)