I sit on my bed waiting for the daily horror to strike. It comes on time, I listen as the garage door opens allowing entrance to the monster that controls my life. I sink into the covers hoping to disappear, hoping he'll leave me alone.
"Claire get in the kitchen now!" He shouts angrily. I sprint to the kitchen and wait for the beating of words. "You see this!" He points at a small scratch on the table. "I told you to be careful! Why can't you do anything right? And why can't you show me some respect?" He screams at the top of his lungs, I retreat to my room as I was told. "Worthless peice of trash!"
I am worthless. I am ugly. I am hopeless. I am nothing.
This verbal abuse is tearing me apart from the inside out. The fresh cuts on my wrist provide a temporary release. I'm just a waste of space.
I stare greedily at the pill bottles in the medicine cabinet. A chance to escape. The Grim Reaper looks very friendly right now. I carve into my skin the words I've been called. I grab a handful of small pellets and pop them in my mouth.
It's peaceful this way, a heavy drowsiness settles over me. Sometime soon I take a nap.
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United States • 22 years old