The Words Can't Come To Mind, chapter 2
I woke up, dark outside, and not knowing the fuck what time it was. I could hear my father's snoring, so I bet it was passed 10pm. I slept for a long time. I changed into my black bathrobe, and quietly made my way downstairs. Every creak that was made, I stood still for 15 seconds, and went on. I got to the kitchen and made a bowl of cereal for my dinner/late night snack. As I got done, I put the bowl in the sink, and traveled back to my room.
I woke up to my mom yelling at my dad. I could barely make out things she was saying. Along the lines were, "I never loved you!" "How could you do this!" and "Get off me!". Not wanting to be noticed, I went downstairs to see that my mom was outside, trying to get in the house, as my father held the door shut. I couldn't stand her wimpering, as much as I hated her, I pushed my dad back. He was surprised, he hadn't known I was even watching.
I pulled my mom inside. She was drunk. I dropped her in disgust. I didn't want to become part of the situation. My mothers face was bleeding. She had a small cut on her forehead that bled down her face, making it seem like her whole face had been bleeding. She kept crying saying, "He's trying to kill me!", as I walked to my room. I looked back seeing that my father pushed her outside, locking the door. Soon I heard a shatter from the window. Then my mom yelling, "My wrists have been slashed and I'm going to bleed to death!". She wants to see wrists bleed I'll show her, I thought. I got a peice of glass that was on my dresser.
One cut up, then down, then up. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. I got dizzy and fell asleep.
I woke up to seeing my wrist stuck on my bedsheet, blood everywhere. Shit, I didn't know I cut that deep, what am I gonna tell mom?, I thought. Soon, I figured I'll just tell her it was a nose bleed.
I showed up to school. Went to the bathroom, changed, spiked my hair, and drank some Vodka. I didn't need to cut. I didn't want to. I don't cut to attempt suicide, I do it because it relieves such painful stress. Mental pain, can be defeated by pyhsical pain. Plus, I like the power.
I saw a punk girl hanging with her group. We chatted a few times, only to get cigerattes off eachother though. I wanted badly to join her group. It was known as the "Dirtbags". I went close to them, and starting smoking. The girl walked over to me.
"Do you smoke?" She asked me. I was puzzled. I was cleary smoking. Then she made a circle shape with her index finger and thumb, and placing it on her lips. Soon, I knew she meant, Do I smoke weed?
"Fuck yes," I lied, "Do you have any?" She nodded and I followed her to the tennis court. Shit, what have I gotten myself into? She took out some weed and a paper, and started rolling a joint. Shit, I don't even know how to hole one, she'll think I'm a loser.
"Uh, well. I lied, I don't smoke weed. I'll leave you alone now." I was as red as her lipstick, but I turned away.
"Well, come back here. There's a first for everything right? If you wanna learn, now's a good chance. Cuz I'm a good teacher." She licked the joint shut, and lit it.
"Here, hold it like this," She handed it to me, "Now, suck in hard, but don't close your lips too tight or nothing will get in. There, yes. Oh, ha ha. When you start to choke, that's when you know you had enough air. When you cough, put your hand over you mouth so that the air will go back into your mouth. That's it." Her facial expressions were as if she was greatful with her teachings. After I had 3 hits, I felt like jell-o, I don't know if I were high, I never been. But I feel weird.
She took 4 hits, and was laughing her ass off,
"Oh," She started, "You never get high the first time. But next time you'll be flying like me, cuz it'll be in your blood. Or, you'll be floating, I do that sometimes. It's when you feel you're so high, you can just float away like a hot-air balloon." She laughed.
I soon got embarresed because one of my wrist's scabs were showing. She must've read my mind, because she showed me that she cuts too. She's just like me! She took out a beer bottle cap, and cut the back of her hand. I don't know why but we both started laughing. For some reason, the little blood droplets were the funniset thing I have ever seen in my life!
We stopped laughing and layed on the table/bench thing. We looked up at the sky. She got up,
"Katie Logan." She led her hand out for me to shake it. I shook it saying,
"Cybil, Cybil Herrason."
I woke up to my mom yelling at my dad. I could barely make out things she was saying. Along the lines were, "I never loved you!" "How could you do this!" and "Get off me!". Not wanting to be noticed, I went downstairs to see that my mom was outside, trying to get in the house, as my father held the door shut. I couldn't stand her wimpering, as much as I hated her, I pushed my dad back. He was surprised, he hadn't known I was even watching.
I pulled my mom inside. She was drunk. I dropped her in disgust. I didn't want to become part of the situation. My mothers face was bleeding. She had a small cut on her forehead that bled down her face, making it seem like her whole face had been bleeding. She kept crying saying, "He's trying to kill me!", as I walked to my room. I looked back seeing that my father pushed her outside, locking the door. Soon I heard a shatter from the window. Then my mom yelling, "My wrists have been slashed and I'm going to bleed to death!". She wants to see wrists bleed I'll show her, I thought. I got a peice of glass that was on my dresser.
One cut up, then down, then up. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. I got dizzy and fell asleep.
I woke up to seeing my wrist stuck on my bedsheet, blood everywhere. Shit, I didn't know I cut that deep, what am I gonna tell mom?, I thought. Soon, I figured I'll just tell her it was a nose bleed.
I showed up to school. Went to the bathroom, changed, spiked my hair, and drank some Vodka. I didn't need to cut. I didn't want to. I don't cut to attempt suicide, I do it because it relieves such painful stress. Mental pain, can be defeated by pyhsical pain. Plus, I like the power.
I saw a punk girl hanging with her group. We chatted a few times, only to get cigerattes off eachother though. I wanted badly to join her group. It was known as the "Dirtbags". I went close to them, and starting smoking. The girl walked over to me.
"Do you smoke?" She asked me. I was puzzled. I was cleary smoking. Then she made a circle shape with her index finger and thumb, and placing it on her lips. Soon, I knew she meant, Do I smoke weed?
"Fuck yes," I lied, "Do you have any?" She nodded and I followed her to the tennis court. Shit, what have I gotten myself into? She took out some weed and a paper, and started rolling a joint. Shit, I don't even know how to hole one, she'll think I'm a loser.
"Uh, well. I lied, I don't smoke weed. I'll leave you alone now." I was as red as her lipstick, but I turned away.
"Well, come back here. There's a first for everything right? If you wanna learn, now's a good chance. Cuz I'm a good teacher." She licked the joint shut, and lit it.
"Here, hold it like this," She handed it to me, "Now, suck in hard, but don't close your lips too tight or nothing will get in. There, yes. Oh, ha ha. When you start to choke, that's when you know you had enough air. When you cough, put your hand over you mouth so that the air will go back into your mouth. That's it." Her facial expressions were as if she was greatful with her teachings. After I had 3 hits, I felt like jell-o, I don't know if I were high, I never been. But I feel weird.
She took 4 hits, and was laughing her ass off,
"Oh," She started, "You never get high the first time. But next time you'll be flying like me, cuz it'll be in your blood. Or, you'll be floating, I do that sometimes. It's when you feel you're so high, you can just float away like a hot-air balloon." She laughed.
I soon got embarresed because one of my wrist's scabs were showing. She must've read my mind, because she showed me that she cuts too. She's just like me! She took out a beer bottle cap, and cut the back of her hand. I don't know why but we both started laughing. For some reason, the little blood droplets were the funniset thing I have ever seen in my life!
We stopped laughing and layed on the table/bench thing. We looked up at the sky. She got up,
"Katie Logan." She led her hand out for me to shake it. I shook it saying,
"Cybil, Cybil Herrason."
