my first real fight (Mis side)

My first real fight

Six months ago things would have been different. It would have been easy. There would have been no fight involved in opening my skin with the edge of a razor but now there was something inside of me that fought against the idea, I wanted to cut more than anything in the world yet, it was also the only thing in the entire world that I didn’t want to do. Without meaning to or really even wanting to my fight with self-harm had started. Don’t get me wrong I had had to fight it before but it had never been for me. I had fort it because I wasn’t allowed to cut. Now I was fighting because I was outgrowing the restraints of the razors edge. It was no longer everything I was, however it would not go down without a fight and of course it wasn’t opposed to playing dirty when one of its minions threatened to leave its side and become whole.

Jumping from my bed I curled myself up at the bottom of it and ran my fingers over the bottom slat waiting for my fingers to hit something metal hidden just under the rim. This was hiding place one. Hiding place two was in the same place where I had hid the first one the very same day I came to the unit. Three was in one of my pocketed bras. Four was taped to the underside of my sock draw and number five was hidden in the top of a can of body spray. I was devious manic and completely unreasonable, but felt better for having them.

I took the blade from the slat and smoothed the shiny edges between my fingers and breathed in deeply trying to get my feeble lungs to try and chase away the squashed feeling but like I guessed they wouldn’t. My skin cried out for the sharp edge to be slashed down across it. My blood wanted to flow into the world outside my body and across the floors were it wouldn’t have to be contained. I wanted it more than anything however I didn’t. Blood would have been a bitter sweet reward.

“Oh come on Mia!” I hissed, making myself rock backwards and forwards in my ball.

“It’s easy, it’s always been easy, just do it!” I posed the blade at my skin and closed my eyes ready to slash down, ready for my skin to open and for heat and range and pain to bubble up from the gap that was left. Then I could breathe again. So why wouldn’t my hand work? Why did half of my brain scream “No” even though it would make me feel better?

I couldn’t stop the feelings from overtaking me. It felt like my body was being dragged under the surface of crashing wave and the worse thing was that the life line that I needed so badly was right there in my hands, pressed beneath my fingers but I couldn’t take it. My hands shook and the nausea from inside of me threatened to pour out over the edges. I could not breath.

I fort for exactly four minuites fifteen seconds before my body crumbled and caved in and I pulled the side of blade one across my skin opening up my skin and allowing the blood to gather in beads and then topple down over the edges into my other hand. I did it again and then again feeling the frenzy setting in that I wanted to avoid. I had fought the cutting. Fort my need for the blood and destruction but I had the taste for it now and I liked it, wanted it, needed it. It was the only thing in needed. Somewhere inside me my brain still barked at me to stop but the monsters tried to drown it out.

“Stitches, it isn’t a cut unless it needs stitches.”

The blade ate my skin leaving a hole that thread could sew up but not before giving me the gift of more blood. I smeared it with my hands, letting the deep red collect on my fingertips before dripping down onto the carpet. I loved what I was doing. I was saving myself. I sobbed my whole chest heaving with the heavy tears. I hated what I was doing. I was ruining everything.

“Carry on, more Mia! More! More! You can do better.”

“Stop mi, just stop, stop!” I Sobed, throwing the blade across the floor before getting to my feet pulling my hoody on over my head and bolting from the door