FicWad

She awoke with a gasp, a clenched fist, lungs expanding, searching for air.
What remained of the nightmare was quickly escaping among the shadows around her, engulfed in nothingness. She needed to drink. Water, something stronger. She needed to cut, and then her hands automatically rushed to touch her hips, brushed along her ribcage, feeling the beauty of bones, and the perfection of those thin, fresh cuts, done only maybe an hour before, done because the thoughts had been too much. Done because she was pretty, but not perfect. She closed her eyes, folded her legs under her body, hugged herself, felt her body shake with her rattling sobs.
It took her a moment to slip back into her numbness, drown the feeling back down inside some dark recess of her mind, it took her a moment to decide to stand up.
She searched for the light switch, flipped it on, looked at her clock. 3:00. AM. Early. Late. She listened. Breathing? Moaning. Man and a woman. It made her giggle. She liked the fact that although she had been living there for little over a year, Tomo and Vicki felt comfortable enough to ‘do the dirty’ while she was around. Or maybe they just thought she was sleeping.
She crept out, careful to close the door behind her, breathing as little as possible, she didn’t want to bother, didn’t want to disturb and-“Becca?”
She whipped around, pressed her hands against her mouth, muffled a surprised scream.
“Jesus…Jesus…Vicki…I…”
“You OK?”
She hated it, when they asked if she was OK. Hated the way they looked, the way they were always so fucking concerned.
“I’m…I’m fine.” and she forced her lips into a smile.
“Where are you going?”
To drink until I pass out. To purge until I can’t see straight. To cut until I bleed to death. To sink into myself.
“To get some water.”
Vicki pressed her lips together, pulling the bathrobe tight over her bare chest.
“You promised you’d stop.”
Oh Sweet Mother of Jesus, no. Not the guilt games. Not tonight.
“I…”
“You promised, Becca.”
She felt her hip throb where she had cut. All of a sudden, red-hot shame stung her eyes, tainted her cheeks. All she could do was look away.
“I…”
“Please?” And she had grabbed her thin wrist and she had squeezed, and Becca felt the tears build up and push against her throat and she stared at a spot on the wall and all she could do was think about that one dark spot, all she could do was pray that her emotions wouldn’t take control.
“Please, Becca? Will you stop?” Please, Rebecca. Quit screaming. Quit talking. Leave Mommy alone. Later, later I’ll play with you and then the tears started flowing and she sunk her teeth inside her knuckles and pressed hard and the taste of her ripping skin calmed her down, sort of, calmed her down, froze the pain, and then Vicki was holding her tight and she was sobbing and screaming and Tomo was standing behind Vicki, just looking, concern or hatred or disgust is it disgust God God God they hate me painted on his face.
“I…I’m sorry…I’m so, so sorry…”
“Hush, Becca, hush. It’s OK. It’s gonna be OK.”