Alt 6

The door to the girl’s bathroom created noise as it met with the wall due to my excessive force that was caused by my current nausea. I took long strides over to the sink and quickly turned the water on to a scalding hot temperature. Digging through my bag, I looked for my light, the thing that would help me out of this slump and the farthest away from those haunting blue eyes. Or so I’d hope.

My razor was nowhere in sight.

‘Stupid fucking sister and her freaking secretly checking my shit’

Of course there was that annoying little voice in the back of my head that told me that she was simply looking out for me. But I just wanted to be angry, at anyone or anything. Looking in the mirror I saw…me. I can’t say that I saw someone different from what I remember or that I’m the shell of the person I used to be because this desperate pathetic person is all I remember. It’s the only Ashley I know.

God I’m so fucking pathetic. I’m about to break down over a stupid fucking blade that I’m not even supposed to be thinking about. I am, once again, screwing shit up. The thought of doing so, and disappointing my new found sister made my blood boil.

“Why the fuck can’t I do anything right?”

I was tired of looking at the fuck up in the mirror and pissed of at my own self for being that loser. Heat poured into my neck and face as rage caused my fists’ collision with the glass before me breathing was quickly becoming a problem and I didn’t fight the black on the outskirts of my vision. I wanted so much for it to just consume me. I could vaguely feel the throbbing pain in my hands as I kept crashing them into the damaged mirror over and over again, hoping that a shard would ‘accidently’ catch my wrist and end it all. Every time I pulled an arm back I could make out the coppery scent of the blood that I now knew was dripping from my knuckles. Warm, strong, arms wrapped around my waist and kept my arms at my sides, to prevent any more damage I guess. I struggled to break free but the person was persistent as fuck.