Ashley’s Point of View – A Dreamy Decision

Her eyes light up for a short second, but they quickly look away. She’s confused as to why I said what I did, but I’m not anymore. She looks back at me finally and questions my words and questions why I woke up like that. I just smile at her because I’m not even close to being prepared to let her know about my dream. Yes, in my explanation of my decision I want her to know what my dream was…… my dream that has left me undoubtably horny….. until I remember my special arm is hurt. There’s a lot I need to tell her, things she should know about why this decision has come to me and what all has made me feel like this.

"How about you go get you some breakfast that doesn’t come from the hospital caffeteria."

"But-"

"But nothing. I just….. I need to think." I smile at her, and the tears rise to her eyes as I knew they would. I can’t help that my smile is somewhat evilish.

"Yeah, okay. I’ll come back this afternoon."

I tell her bye for now and she gets up and leaves as slowly as possible. It’s cute, but frustrating when you need to think out what you need to say. When the door to my room closes again I sigh with relief and my head falls back into the pillow.

"Finally,’ I breathe.

I look at my arm and the memories of what I had felt come back. The deception Spencer had done is forever apart of me. What she did tore me apart and I felt a need to tear my flesh to show it. I felt hurt and terrified that I could hurt so bad because of her. I thought for sure I was the screw up but she showed me different. We’re equal now you could say and my worries about her cheating to get back at me are gone; she got back at me worse. What goes around comes around ten fold, that’s Karma for ya.

As I examine my hands I see all the scars of the past. No one knows how I used to cope, they all find it shocking how ‘strong’ I must have been. It’s such a great way to get girls, but if they knew the truth they would run; Spencer would be a present never seen. This mutilation of my body isn’t the first, hell, not even the hundreth. I used to make all types of cuts and puncture wounds on my hands. If you look at them you can tell I’ve used tanning to cover them up and with years passed they have dulled a great deal. But at first they were as pink as Spencers lips. They shown the pain I felt but the pain on my body never was enough. That’s when drugs came into play.