A year after my dad and stepmom’s rants towards me I had hit rock bottom. My heart could hardly hold any more pain inside. I felt mad at my mother for leaving me with these two godawful people and hurt from all the things that Jan and Dad said to me (however true they may be). The pain was too much for my sixteen year old heart but I had no idea how to release them. I couldn’t cry in front of either Dad or Jan for that would only make them laugh at me more.
Then one night I was putting away dishes while Jan and Dad were out on the town at assorted clubs. I was almost done, the silverware the last thing for me to finish, when I came across a knife.
And before I gave it a second thought I was gashing up my arm with the steakknife. And it felt….good. With each cut of my arm I felt a little more of the pain go away to focus on the blood pouring out of both arms. With each beat of my heart more blood pumped out of my skin.
There were six decent cuts on both of my arms once I was done. And they were beautiful.