FicWad

I gasp as the blade rips through my skin, leaving it torn open to bleed. I watch the blood as it drips down my arm and seeps into the sink in something close to fascination, trying not to hear my father yelling at me to open the door. I pull the razor across my arm again, trying to dull the sharp pain that fills my body at his insults.
I am worthless, I am pathetic, I am nothing but a morbid child watching blood run down my arm as I hide from the monster in my house.
He continues to yell, I continue to ignore him. I curl up in the bath tub and close my eyes, thinking back to when I was little and would get sent to my room for disobeying my parents. I would always imagine I was a princess, a gorgeous princess with magical powers and could bust out of my room to laugh in their faces.
How stupid I was.
“What are you doing?!” he screams.
I cover my face with my hands to hold back my screams of agony. I know what’s going to happen next. He’s going to break down the door, beat me, and yell at me to fix it afterwards. A loud bang confirms my fears. The door hits the ground, and then there’s just pain as I sink into oblivion.

Skinny bitches, I think, staring out at them. They all giggle simultaneously, walking together, talking about some stupid dance I honestly couldn’t care less about. A blonde one tosses her long, perfect hair over one shoulder, and I have to clench my teeth to keep from screaming. My mom used to have such long hair she had to flip it around just like that, and my despair worsens as I remember her.
I gaze at the angry red marks on my arm. One of them makes the shape of a heart, and I blink to keep from crying. I hate it. I hate it all—the girls walking in front of me as if rubbing in that their life is better than mine, the cuts, the alcoholic waiting at home to beat me, the face that stares back at me when I look in a mirror.
A girl across the lawn from me glances up, notices me, and walks away. I believe I hate her too.

I stare at the girl I hate more than anyone in the mirror. My long black hair, mousy brown eyes, and faded pink lips stare back. This too I hate. She is the one doing this to me. She is the one that is weak. How dare she?
The monster bangs on the door, making me jump. “Cunt! Why did you skip class again?”
I blink back tears as I sit in the bath tub and pull my legs up to my chest, gazing at the razor on the ledge.
“Answer me, bitch!” He screams.
“Fuck you,” I whimper.
“I swear I will beat the fucking door down if you don’t open it now.”
“Why? So you can beat the shit out of me again?” I cry.
“Goddammit, you whore! Open the fucking door!”
But he senses I will not open up. I hear the sound as he slams his body into the door over and over, the hinges threatening to give way. I close my eyes, wishing I could be anywhere but here, hearing his anger rise as I begin to sob. I’m just waiting for the pain that comes once he breaks down that door.
“I should have never agreed when your mother asked for kids,” he growls, and the door hits the ground, and once again I am beaten unconscious.

I cry. For an hour, for two hours, I don’t know. I sob and sob until I can’t anymore. Then I sit for a while and try to breathe, holding my chest gingerly when the action hurts. Eventually I can’t stand it anymore. I get up, almost falling back over when the movement hurts like hell.
I cut enough to numb the emotional pain and drop the blade. The mirror seems to mock me. I curl up in bed and watch as my arm slowly ceases to bleed. Then, finally, I fall asleep.