Secret Shimmering Glass

The river cries. I’m drowning. I see the hate, I’m falling. I bathe in my tears. Bathe in the blood of my wrists. My eyes sting with tears. The bathroom door is locked. I like to lock myself away to slit. I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. I hear my mother’s weary voice calling out my name. I holding my breath. She shall not know. I hear her knocking on my bedroom door. She calls out to me, and soon leaves after hearing no voice utter a sound. I let out my breath as the footsteps die away. I laugh. Not a pleasant, joyful laugh from the stomach, but a dark moody, sadistically evil laugh that comes from my soul.

I draw some water into the tub. I open a drawer under the sink. The water in the tub soothes me. The faucet drips. It melts in with the running water. I pull out the knife I’d hidden weeks before. Shutting the drawer with my foot, I walk to the tub. My eyes seem to be deceiving me as I look into the reflection. I lift up my shirt and tear it off my body. I take another look at our bathroom and slit.

Oh, so, so gently at first, hardly a mark. I love starting out that way. Causes more pain to myself. I get deeper, inch by inch I hear someone coming, and immediately freeze. Did I lock the door? I wonder. I arise. I check the door handle. I breathe a sigh of relief.

I hear my father yelling at me through the door to hurry up. We’re going out. Great fun. I kidded with myself and the bathroom. Nevertheless, I continue to slit. It is now deep enough to satisfy myself. I let out the bath, and clothe myself again. I sigh, unlock the door, and get ready to face the world once again.

“We’re going to a fancy restaurant, so dress nice,” my mother tells me. I silently laugh. Like anything I own is nice. I walk again up the stairs. I look at the bathroom, just to make sure there’s no blood accidentally dripping from the edges. I unlock my door, and step inside.

I open my closet, and in the left side, I see a shimmering blade. The knife I stored months ago. I get lost in thoughts of the past. It wasn’t always like this. But everything’s changed since then. Things always change.

I pull out something random. My “funeral” dress. The long black one I loved so much that I bought three more just like it so I could wear them all the time. I put it on, with my leather boots. This is good enough, I say to the closet.

I got downstairs and see disapproval and disappointment in their eyes. That’s nothing new. It’s always been there since they realized I’ll never be homecoming queen, or anything big and famous, or even special in any way. But I don’t mind. I wouldn’t change even if I could.

We head out to the car and drive.

Inside the restaurant, people stare. I laugh and ignore them. My parents complain about me not being normal. It’s not the first time I’ve heard that from them, or will it be the last.

Shortly after receiving a table and ordering our meals, I excuse myself and go to the bathroom. I undo my boot, and lift up my sleeve. I pick up the shimmering glass and slit. I feel so much better. I turn my arm and cut into my hand. I stop, realizing they will see. I take off my boots and remove my nylons, and slit my leg. They’ll never know. No one will ever know. My secret is hidden from the world.