There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.

Laurell K. Hamilton

𝙏𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 :

𝙋𝙝𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝘼𝙗𝙪𝙨𝙚

- 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙢 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙩 𝙛𝙖𝙪𝙡𝙩. -

Sweat molecules embed themselves onto my hands as I nervously wring them together. Joshua stares , and so does Landon as mama mixes the salad. They're both sitting on either side of my chair , entrapping me , both physically and mentally. My mother , the woman that gave birth to me , stays oblivious to my clear discomfort and continues to hum as she sets aside the salad and takes a seat .

I don't know why they're here.

I don't know what they want from me.

I don't know why this is happening to me.

All I know is that tonight won't end well. Not with the hand that's looming over my right thigh. Not with the devilish smirk that Landon is sending me.

I'm trying so hard to not break down and cry. Mama doesn't like it when I cry. It's my stupid fault, I should've come home earlier. I won't-can't blame Dalaric. It's always my own fault.

I'm ashamed of the fact that I'm scared of my own mother. Your family should be your number one , right ? Then why do I feel anything but happy when I'm around mama.

"Maya , dear , pass the salt to Landon." Mama gets my attention with her sickly sweet voice and I warily pass the salt. Landon's hand grazes mine as he takes it from me while purposely tightening his grip on my fingers. Joshua keeps one of his hands on my right thigh and digs his nails into the skin through the hoodie.

I miss Dalaric.

Dinner passes quietly and I don't touch my food , which is a can of beans. Landon and Joshua willfully ignore the fact that mama is not sane. The table has no plates. It only has a salad and four cans of bakes beans. She hasn't cooked in five years. She gets up from her chair and alarm bells ring in my head. If she leaves- I can't fathom it.

"Well boys , Thank you for coming over. I have to go meet a few friends for an emergency but you can hang around if you'd like."

No.

Please no.

I try and make eye contact with the woman I call mama but she only grabs her bag , which no doubt contains alcohol , and leaves the apartment.

Leaves me alone with them.

I hate myself for being in situations like these all the time. It's always me.

Joshua's hand goes further up my thigh and I waste no time in getting up.

I can't let them do that to me. I can't.

I run to the kitchen and grab a knife. Landon and Joshua surround me.

"There's no where to run , Maya." Landon devilishly smirks as he leans against one of the counters, twirling a knife in his hand.

Joshua speaks up , his voice equally as sinful. "Just let us have a bit of fun , babe. You've already caused enough trouble , don't ya think ?"

Maybe- Maybe if I give them what they want , they'll leave me alone , right ?

No. Papas words echo in my mind.

"Never let them take your dignity , Maya. You die with that , understood ?"

I die with that.

My eyes wander to the knife in my hand. I hadn't realized that it was the same knife that had been in my father , twisted in agony and death. I miss him.

I only realized how distracted I was when Landon had grabbed the knife and held it to my neck. A sickening laugh leaves both of their mouths. My eyes water incessantly as I feel warm trails of hopelessness lead their way down my cheeks.

"Oh, darling. You always make it easier for us. Move and it's the last thing you do , got it , Maya ?"

Landon lets the knife graze my throat and a sting surges through my body. I bite my lip to muffle any sounds that will end in my death.

A loud ringing sound echoes through the empty house. I let out an involuntary sigh before Landon's hand tightens around my neck. Another tear.

Whispers sound from Joshua as he talks to whoever it is on the other line of the phone. He curses as he ends the call.

"Fuck man, Matt's waiting for us at the club. "

Thank you , Matt.

Landon sighs and I whimper in relief. His hand immediately tightens on my neck , definitely leaving a bruise along with the cut.

"Not so fast, Maya."

He lets the side of the knife slide itself over my skin , a cold touch burning me.

"Now , listen here, baby girl. I know you've been running around with my brother , Ricky. You see-" He sickeningly whispers , pushing the blunt tip of the overused knife into my skin with each word.

"-when something is mine , I never share. So what you're going to do Maya, is stay the fuck away from him , got it ? I would teach you who you belong to-" He pushes the point of the knife deeper into my shoulder and I feel the crack forming in my skin as thick liquid oozes through.

My tears drip on the cold metal of the knife that is always the reason for my pain.

"-but, we need to go. Remember what I said , Maya. Don't fucking go near him , got it ?" His cold lips graze my cheek and I muffle my sobs , just like I've been doing for the past hour.

"If you do, I'll do something that might be more painful than this." A strangled cry escapes my lips as he pushes the knife even deeper into my shoulder. My knees buckle as pain shoots through me but he holds me upright with one arm wound around my waist which is still covered by Dalaric's hoodie.

It hurts.

It hurts so much.

Landon drops the knife on the floor with a clang. He removes the arm around my waist and lets me fall onto my knees , blood trailing along my shoulders and into the sleeves of the hoodie. I can feel the warm liquid dripping from the tips of my fingertips as incessant sobs rock through my body.

It hurts.

Joshua laughs as I cry before they walk towards the door. "See you later , babe !" Both their voices drawl out the words as the door shuts close , leaving me on the floor of the kitchen.

Bleeding , crying and hoping.

Hoping that someone would come.

Mama ?

Papa ?

I call out, hoping that someone answers. Hoping that the people who raised me answer. Hoping that the people that call me their friend answer. But they don't , and I'm left irrevocably , ultimately and utterly alone.

I don't know how long I cry for,

Or bleed for.

But I only crawl towards my bedroom when my arms are layered with dry blood. The pain in my shoulder returns tenfold as I leave trails of wet, dark blood. I make it to the door , where an almost empty bottle of whiskey lies. I cry and cry even harder as I try to take off the hoodie. I can't. I'm useless. I'm unworthy. I don't know why I'm alive.

Taking the bottle , my eyes feel dry as I crawl slowly towards my bed , underneath which lies a pair of scissors I use to cut and wrap bandages. My heart utterly shatters when I cut down his hoodie. The tearing of the cloth reminds me of the only friendship I ever had turning to ruins. I won't be able to see him again. Or touch him. My ugly crying only increases , my throat restricting as I claw my way to the wound. I clench my eyes and think of my happy place as I pour the makeshift disinfectant.

Wednesday game nights with my parents.

At the park with my mom.

Wendy's.

His arms.

My eyes open when I can't think of anymore. I look up at the ceiling as my body rakes continuously after the pain of the alcohol on my flesh subsides. It's dark in the room. And suddenly my life seems to mimic the lack of light.

Searing fiery bursts pulsated around the wound, only intensifying with each dragging crawl, scorching. With every second passed ,the pain only amplified, the bloody muscle quivered, my consciousness subtly ebbed. Black spots danced in my vision but I couldn't pass out here. I couldn't. She would come and make it worse.

I don't have it in me to look at the shower. I know I should. But I don't. I crawl painfully under the white sheets. The sheets that I worked tirelessly to keep clean and spotless , my safe haven , now tainted with deep crimson.

What did I ever do ?

Why me ?

Why ?

I throw Mr.Jones to the side of the room before I can taint him , too. That's the effect I have.

Make everyone's life just more difficult.

It was never like this when mama hurt me physically. It was never this painful. Not as painful as the emotions that ripped apart at the thought of how unlovable I am , even in my own mother's eyes. The cuts on my thighs , the bruising on my arms , the jagged scar on my chest, it never did pain this much.

It wasn't the bleeding shoulder , either. It was the simple knowledge that the light I had found in my life was not dimmed but instead completely cut off.

A circuit breaking.

I would never see him again.

I hate myself for not telling him how much I appreciate him. He gave me something to live for and I'm stupid for thinking it would ever last.

My tongue felt to big for my mouth , my throat constricted just at the thought of ignoring him. Was it selfish ? To save myself ? I know i'm overestimating my importance. He probably won't care that I'm ignoring him. He has friends. He has a life. He doesn't need me.

No one needs me.

"You matter , love. I love you. I'm here. I'll always be here , don't cry." Papa smooths my hair as his pulls the covers over us. He has to leave again. And he won't be back for five months. I want my papa to live forever.

Then why did you kill yourself , papa ?

Why did you leave ?

We miss you. Mama misses you.

I doubt anyone would miss me.

I slip into oblivion when a buzzing sound of the phone in the long forgotten hoodie echoes in the empty house,

save for the girl who's tainting her white sheets a daunting red.

_______________________

1764

Thank you for reading.

Love always ,

-.