Twenty-nine: metal against my skin
Temperance
Once we all get back to the mansion, Alec runs towards me. He takes me in his arms and holds me tight.
I place my head on his shoulder and take a deep breath.
"Where were you?" He pulls back, keeping his hands on my shoulders.
"Just walking around." I know there will be a wave of questions. But I don't want to answer any of the ones he's bound to ask.
"I'm dirty and tired." I blurt before he has the chance to ask anything else.
He looks at me and sighs in defeat. "You need to eat. I know you haven't been eating."
I frown at him. I don't want to eat. I can't. I won't be able to hold the food down. And I don't deserve it anyway.
"No, Alec, I'm fine." I roll my eyes taking a step back.
"Temperance, you're going to eat."
The other guys pull up. The ones that have been looking for me, I presume. They stop the cars and park them.
"No, I'm not. You're not going to force me." I grit my teeth as they walked past us. I know if Alec and I aren't talking that they'd come up and hug me and ask questions. But they can sense that they shouldn't do that right now.
"Just let me take a shower."
With that, he moves out of the way.
Once I get into the hall, I see that everything I threw and broke has been replaced, like I never did any damage in the first place.
I slide off my jacket. I peel off my tattered dress. I won't be able to wear you again. I drop it onto the floor then take off my bra and underwear.
I turn on the shower then when the heat fills the room, I step in.
Steam rises all around me, fogging up the air and fogging up the glass door for the shower.
I let the hot water hit my skin, causing all the dirt to go down the drain as it slides off my body.
The water stings the cuts I have lingering in my body.
I dry myself off and put on my clothes: a baggy long sleeve shirt and black sweatpants.
I pick up my jacket and pull a picture of my mom out of it. I place the picture in my pocket, trying not to gaze at it for too long.
I walk out of the room with the clothes piled in my arms and spot Ella.
"Ella, can you burn these?" I ask her, holding my clothes out to her. She raises an eyebrow in question.
"Burn them?" She repeats, astonished by my peculiar request.
"Yes, please." I place the clothes in her hand. With that, I walk back into Alec's room.
I lock the door behind me.
I know what I'm doing isn't right. He's been kicked out of his room by me for a while. This isn't even my home. I'm just crashing here for now. But I just wanted to be alone. And I was not too fond of that other room.
I lay in the bed and pull the covers up to my neck.
*****************************
Dead mom.
Abusive dad.
Bullies.
Silence.
Rape.
Keep quiet.
Dead friend.
Tears.
I can not breathe. I Am suffocating.
Everything is black until I open my eyes. It's a mirror. And I am in it. My hands are wrapped tightly around my bruised neck.
I can't get them off. I am naked. There are red handprints all over me—signs where someone touched me badly.
Then there are cuts and bruises where I was abused.
Suddenly the hands get tighter around my neck. My face an ugly tomato red.
"Temperance, just let go." A sweet voice from behind me whispered. I let go.
In the mirror is Emaline.
My naked body suddenly has on clothes—a black dress.
She is standing behind me in the mirror. She looks healthy.
She flashes me a bright smile. Her hair is more of a light blonde color.
Her hair lays in a braid that is braided around her head. Flowers ran all through it. Beautiful flowers.
She is wearing a white dress. It almost looks like a wedding dress.
Her dress stops at her knees. And she isn't wearing shoes.
I quickly turn around to see her for myself, but she isn't there.
Where did she go?
I face the mirror again.
My heart drops, and my eyes hold new tears.
Emaline is there again, right in front of me in the mirror. She isn't beautiful like earlier.
She is rotting.
She stands behind me.
This time instead of her beautiful hair being done.... it isn't. Huge chunks are missing from her scalp.
She is a corpse standing behind me. She is dead.
I ram myself into the mirror, shattering the glass everywhere. Letting the cuts linger on my body.
When I look up, I see a rope and a chair—a noose.
I stand up, defeated, and walk towards the noose and chair. The darkness around me is going red. I see red.
I stand up on the chair and put my hand on the rope.
Then my mom is standing in front of me smiling.
"Come on, honey." She smiles sweetly as if she's happy about what I'm so close to doing. I smile back.
My father appears. Not my abusive father.
It is the father that had died with my mother. This is my father before he started to beat me.
He helps me put the rope around my neck.
Then Emaline kicks the chair out from under me.
***************************
I am suddenly sitting straight up in the best, trying to catch my breath. My chest heaves up and down, trying to collect the oxygen I desperately need.
Cold sweat lingers on my body as my heart pounds hard enough for me to hear it in my ears enough for me to feel like it will jump out of my chest right here and now.
I wipe away the tears that escape my eyes.
I don't want to believe that I would kill myself. But I know my mind is leading me to that pitch-black place. I thought about it before. Several times. Especially now that Emaline's dead.
I uncover myself and throw my legs over the side of the bed.
I stand up and walk over to where my blade sits.
I roll my sweatpants up to where I can see my lower thigh.
I press the cold metal against my warm skin.
I remember a time when my skin was smooth. Now it is covered in cuts.
I slide the blade against my skin like a knife going through butter. Blood gushes out of my thigh.
I take a sharp inhale as I press it another time on my skin, slicing it.
One for my dead mother.
One for my dead friend.
One for my father beating me.
One for his fiancé beating.
One for rape.
One for my horrible memories.
One for all the shit I've been through in my shit life.
Once I am done, I walk to the bathroom and look at my leg.
My whole leg is covered in the warm crimson color currently gushing out of my thigh.
Cuts are not pretty. That is a fact.
I put a black towel on my leg and wait for it to stop bleeding.
It takes an hour and a half.
And what I did during that time is watch Netflix. Like nothing had happened.
I bite my tongue as I clean my self-harm wounds with peroxide. I watch as it fizzes.
I get a big bandage and wrap it around my thigh so I won't bleed out more. So I won't bleed to death. So I won't bleed on these sweatpants and the bed.
I roll my sweatpants back down and wash my hands and the floor and counters.
Once it is all cleaned off, it is three in the morning. I shake my head and turn off the lights heading back to bed.
I know that maybe a few other people would probably stay awake to get an early start to their day.
But not me. Being awake is like hell. But being asleep is too. But if I am asleep, at least I don't have to talk to anyone.
I close my eyes, and everything goes dark.