Post by Jess on Nov 26, 2005 19:26:26 GMT -5
Warning: this story contains GI(graphic imagery). Do not read if you are uncomfortable with the concept of cutting.
Summary: "You can't help me," I told him. "No one can."
Jess's life was perfect. She hated school, but she was popular. She had a boyfriend who truly loved her. Her only fear was falling from the top... and then Peter died.
(Yes, I used my name... I do not, I repeat do not cut.)
Chapter one
"Miss Alexander! Would you be so kind as to answer the question I have just asked you?"
I jerked out of my daydream to see my angry teacher's face above me.
"34," I replied quickly. She frowned. She seemed to be struggling not to strangle me right then and there.
"Correct," she said in a choked voice. I could tell she was holding back a scream. I smiled, surprised. My overachieving twin sister Katy rolled her eyes.
"You have got to pay attention!" she whispered.
"If I get the answer right, it doesn't matter if I pay attention," I smirked.
"Class dismissed," the teacher called. I gathered my books and walked out with Katy and my best friend Jade.
"That," Jade told me, "was so cool! How do you manage to get the right answer when you've been daydreaming and can you teach me?"
"Nope," I replied. "Sorry. That's a secret I'll be taking to the grave." I untucked my shirt, as it was boiling hot.
Katy, Jade, my other friend Molly, and I went to a Catholic high school. We had to wear white shirts and tan skirts that went down below our knees.
"Tuck that shirt back in, young lady," a teacher said as she passed. I got this about 10 times a day. My parents were too rich for them to expel me. So basically, I got to do whatever I wanted, and they didn't do a thing about it.
Some people told me I was a brat. And maybe they were right. But it was the way I was brought up, and that's not a very easy thing to change. So my life was perfect. I was popular, I got to do whatever I wanted when I wanted, and nothing would ever change!
"Jess!" Molly called as she ran down the hall. "Jess, there's something you should know..."
"What?" I asked. Tears were pouring silently down her face.
"It's Peter," she panted, referring to my boyfriend. I'd been with him since sixth grade. "He's..."
"What?" I asked. I was beginning to get scared.
"He's… dead."
****
I stood at the side of the grave, tears dripping down my face. Peter had been outside with some guys who were pretending to be his friends. They had gotten in a fight... one of them had pulled a knife on Peter... and just like that, my whole life changed.
I knew Peter would have wanted me to be happy, but I was never going to see him again. At least not until I died. The thought struck me hard. I made up my mind. I was going to kill myself... then I would be with Peter again. I had loved him. Not just high school infatuation, but real love. When I got home, I snuck a kitchen knife into the bathroom. I held it above my wrist and took a deep breath. I was going to end it. Right now. I was going to.
I hadn't done it yet.
I had to.
I lowered the blade so it was grazing my wrist. One stroke and I would bleed to death. Do it, I thought. Now!
Don't you want to see Peter again?
I took a deep breath and slashed with a shaking hand.
Because my hand was shaking... I missed the vein. But I still bled. And somehow, that reminded me that I was still human. I could still bleed. I closed my eyes, savoring the drip, drip, drip of my blood on the floor. It wasn't that big a wound, so it didn't hurt very much. But I couldn't feel what little pain was there. I felt elated. I felt like I was drifting away on an ocean wave...
And then the door opened; Katy stood there.
"JESS!" she shrieked when she saw the blade... the wound... the blood. She took the blade and put it in the sink, grabbing a towel and pressing it on the wound on my arm. I was crying, she was crying, and up in Heaven, Peter was crying.
****
After Katy had bandaged my arm, I made her swear not to tell our parents. She agreed, not willingly, but she agreed.
Two weeks later, Katy discovered me in the bathroom again, cutting. She bandaged my arms and promised not to tell. But I kept doing it. It was an addiction. I had to keep cutting or I felt empty. I missed Peter.
When Katy found me cutting for the fifth time, she got exasperated, angry, and worried. I made her promise not to tell. She did. I didn't believe her, so I made her promise again. She did. I went into my room and cried. I missed Peter.
Two days later, my parents came into my room and told me I was going to rehab. Katy had told them I was cutting.
Summary: "You can't help me," I told him. "No one can."
Jess's life was perfect. She hated school, but she was popular. She had a boyfriend who truly loved her. Her only fear was falling from the top... and then Peter died.
(Yes, I used my name... I do not, I repeat do not cut.)
Chapter one
"Miss Alexander! Would you be so kind as to answer the question I have just asked you?"
I jerked out of my daydream to see my angry teacher's face above me.
"34," I replied quickly. She frowned. She seemed to be struggling not to strangle me right then and there.
"Correct," she said in a choked voice. I could tell she was holding back a scream. I smiled, surprised. My overachieving twin sister Katy rolled her eyes.
"You have got to pay attention!" she whispered.
"If I get the answer right, it doesn't matter if I pay attention," I smirked.
"Class dismissed," the teacher called. I gathered my books and walked out with Katy and my best friend Jade.
"That," Jade told me, "was so cool! How do you manage to get the right answer when you've been daydreaming and can you teach me?"
"Nope," I replied. "Sorry. That's a secret I'll be taking to the grave." I untucked my shirt, as it was boiling hot.
Katy, Jade, my other friend Molly, and I went to a Catholic high school. We had to wear white shirts and tan skirts that went down below our knees.
"Tuck that shirt back in, young lady," a teacher said as she passed. I got this about 10 times a day. My parents were too rich for them to expel me. So basically, I got to do whatever I wanted, and they didn't do a thing about it.
Some people told me I was a brat. And maybe they were right. But it was the way I was brought up, and that's not a very easy thing to change. So my life was perfect. I was popular, I got to do whatever I wanted when I wanted, and nothing would ever change!
"Jess!" Molly called as she ran down the hall. "Jess, there's something you should know..."
"What?" I asked. Tears were pouring silently down her face.
"It's Peter," she panted, referring to my boyfriend. I'd been with him since sixth grade. "He's..."
"What?" I asked. I was beginning to get scared.
"He's… dead."
****
I stood at the side of the grave, tears dripping down my face. Peter had been outside with some guys who were pretending to be his friends. They had gotten in a fight... one of them had pulled a knife on Peter... and just like that, my whole life changed.
I knew Peter would have wanted me to be happy, but I was never going to see him again. At least not until I died. The thought struck me hard. I made up my mind. I was going to kill myself... then I would be with Peter again. I had loved him. Not just high school infatuation, but real love. When I got home, I snuck a kitchen knife into the bathroom. I held it above my wrist and took a deep breath. I was going to end it. Right now. I was going to.
I hadn't done it yet.
I had to.
I lowered the blade so it was grazing my wrist. One stroke and I would bleed to death. Do it, I thought. Now!
Don't you want to see Peter again?
I took a deep breath and slashed with a shaking hand.
Because my hand was shaking... I missed the vein. But I still bled. And somehow, that reminded me that I was still human. I could still bleed. I closed my eyes, savoring the drip, drip, drip of my blood on the floor. It wasn't that big a wound, so it didn't hurt very much. But I couldn't feel what little pain was there. I felt elated. I felt like I was drifting away on an ocean wave...
And then the door opened; Katy stood there.
"JESS!" she shrieked when she saw the blade... the wound... the blood. She took the blade and put it in the sink, grabbing a towel and pressing it on the wound on my arm. I was crying, she was crying, and up in Heaven, Peter was crying.
****
After Katy had bandaged my arm, I made her swear not to tell our parents. She agreed, not willingly, but she agreed.
Two weeks later, Katy discovered me in the bathroom again, cutting. She bandaged my arms and promised not to tell. But I kept doing it. It was an addiction. I had to keep cutting or I felt empty. I missed Peter.
When Katy found me cutting for the fifth time, she got exasperated, angry, and worried. I made her promise not to tell. She did. I didn't believe her, so I made her promise again. She did. I went into my room and cried. I missed Peter.
Two days later, my parents came into my room and told me I was going to rehab. Katy had told them I was cutting.