The salty droplets trickled down her face. Her hand quivered as the cold blade gently caressed her skin. Her bluish-purple veins reflected in the sharp object. She didn’t want to do this, but she felt as though she had nothing left. It seemed as though he didn’t care about the time they had together. He said he needed his space, his freedom, some time away from her to concentrate on school. She was going to give him the greatest distance possible. He would be able to have his freedom as she watched down on him from heaven.
She raised the blade and placed it across her wrist several times before finally breaking the skin. She moved the now crimson spotted razor away from the gash and dropped it on the floor. Numerous thoughts ran through her mind. Did she really just do that? Should she have done it? Did she really want to die over him? As these thoughts crowded her mind, tears began to fill her hazel eyes. She drew her legs inward and hugged them close to her chest. As she sat in the corner of the dismal bathroom, she started rocking back and forth. Tears streamed down her face like a leaky faucet that couldn’t be turned off. She looked down to her right, and through her watery eyes, saw her reflection in the blade. Just then she realized what a terrible mistake she had made. She knew she was stronger than that; knew she had family and friends who loved her too much to let her go. She could go on with her life without him; it would be tough but worth it. She hopped into the shower to wash away all the memories of what had just occurred.
Fearing she would be sent to a psychologist, she never told anybody about what had happened that day. She hid her scar with long sleeves, bracelets, and make-up. Although the gash healed a little everyday, it served as a reminder of how strong she was. How she turned her life around after almost ending it all. Since that day, she graduated school and got her dream job as an event planner. Within a year of earning that position, she arranged six weddings, two sweet sixteen’s, and one wedding anniversary. At last she was happy with her life. She was able to wake up every morning knowing that she was going to make someone’s special day memorable.
She started that day like any other. She took a shower, stopped at the local coffee shop, and then made her way to her office. She opened the building doors and said hello to all her coworkers. She sat down at her desk and began looking at a wedding catalog to get ideas for an upcoming ceremony. The bells on the door began to chime so she looked up to see who had just walked in. She leaned back in her chair and looked over towards the secretary’s desk. She froze and fixed her eyes on the couple standing near the door. She remembered those deep brown eyes; his silky caramel skin; his perfect bright white smile; his gel spiked black hair. She remembered the times they had together; how he dumped her; how he made her feel; how she tried to kill herself. She leaped out of her chair, grabbed her keys, and ran past him to her car. As she ran to the door, she made eye contact with him. The tears were pouring down her face, blurring her vision. He began to say hello but she was already out the door. She jumped into her car and headed for home hoping never to see his face again.
She burst open her apartment door and ran straight to the bathroom, not caring that she left her door open. She sat in the corner of that dreary bathroom just like she had weeks prior. She picked up the newly sharpened blade and began gently tapping it against her body. She thought about how disheartened she felt the day he left her. The tears came streaming out faster. She took the razor and made a slash next to her scar. She let out a scream. She thought about seeing him with his fiancé. Again she took the razor and marked herself, this time not feeling any pain. She finally felt good about hurting herself.
Twenty minutes later he walked up the stairs to the complex and saw her door wide open. He began calling her name as he walked into the apartment. He searched all around and eventually made his way to the bathroom. He opened the door and saw her sitting in that dismal bathroom corner.
She raised the blade and placed it across her wrist several times before finally breaking the skin. She moved the now crimson spotted razor away from the gash and dropped it on the floor. Numerous thoughts ran through her mind. Did she really just do that? Should she have done it? Did she really want to die over him? As these thoughts crowded her mind, tears began to fill her hazel eyes. She drew her legs inward and hugged them close to her chest. As she sat in the corner of the dismal bathroom, she started rocking back and forth. Tears streamed down her face like a leaky faucet that couldn’t be turned off. She looked down to her right, and through her watery eyes, saw her reflection in the blade. Just then she realized what a terrible mistake she had made. She knew she was stronger than that; knew she had family and friends who loved her too much to let her go. She could go on with her life without him; it would be tough but worth it. She hopped into the shower to wash away all the memories of what had just occurred.
Fearing she would be sent to a psychologist, she never told anybody about what had happened that day. She hid her scar with long sleeves, bracelets, and make-up. Although the gash healed a little everyday, it served as a reminder of how strong she was. How she turned her life around after almost ending it all. Since that day, she graduated school and got her dream job as an event planner. Within a year of earning that position, she arranged six weddings, two sweet sixteen’s, and one wedding anniversary. At last she was happy with her life. She was able to wake up every morning knowing that she was going to make someone’s special day memorable.
She started that day like any other. She took a shower, stopped at the local coffee shop, and then made her way to her office. She opened the building doors and said hello to all her coworkers. She sat down at her desk and began looking at a wedding catalog to get ideas for an upcoming ceremony. The bells on the door began to chime so she looked up to see who had just walked in. She leaned back in her chair and looked over towards the secretary’s desk. She froze and fixed her eyes on the couple standing near the door. She remembered those deep brown eyes; his silky caramel skin; his perfect bright white smile; his gel spiked black hair. She remembered the times they had together; how he dumped her; how he made her feel; how she tried to kill herself. She leaped out of her chair, grabbed her keys, and ran past him to her car. As she ran to the door, she made eye contact with him. The tears were pouring down her face, blurring her vision. He began to say hello but she was already out the door. She jumped into her car and headed for home hoping never to see his face again.
She burst open her apartment door and ran straight to the bathroom, not caring that she left her door open. She sat in the corner of that dreary bathroom just like she had weeks prior. She picked up the newly sharpened blade and began gently tapping it against her body. She thought about how disheartened she felt the day he left her. The tears came streaming out faster. She took the razor and made a slash next to her scar. She let out a scream. She thought about seeing him with his fiancé. Again she took the razor and marked herself, this time not feeling any pain. She finally felt good about hurting herself.
Twenty minutes later he walked up the stairs to the complex and saw her door wide open. He began calling her name as he walked into the apartment. He searched all around and eventually made his way to the bathroom. He opened the door and saw her sitting in that dismal bathroom corner.
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