A Kiss on the Wrists

Chapter 9

I sat on my bed and stared at the message.

"okay."

I felt like replying, but something held me back. I set my phone down on the table and walked over to my mirror. My nimble fingers worked through my untangled locks, carefully creating a fishtail braid. I sat back down on my bed, grabbed my laptop, and logged onto my tumblr. I scrolled through my dashboard, reblogging things now and then until I got tired.

***Next Day (Saturday)***

I woke up to the sound of a text message. It was from Liam.

"I'm sorry"

I hesitated for a bit, thinking about what he could've meant. Did he cut? Was he apologizing for ... nothing?

Instead of over thinking it, I just replied to him.

"Why?"

I set down my phone, got out of bed and looked in the mirror. I looked horrible. My makeup was messy, probably from crying last night. My hair looked like a witch's broom, and my eyes were as red as a ruby gem.

I quickly checked my phone and saw I didn't have a message. I bit my bottom lip and made my way to the bathroom, leaving my phone on my bedside table.

When I stepped into the hot shower, I felt a burning pain. Wincing away from the hot water, I realized its not the water that had burned me. There were tiny, yet deep cuts covering my arm.

What the fuck?

I don't even remember cutting last night. Why did I look like I was crying? Why were my eyes so red?

///Flashback from the night before///

I scrolled through my dashboard until I officially got bored of tumblr. That was odd. I never got tired of tumblr. I grabbed my phone from my bedside table and reread me and Liam's conversation.

Tears started streaming down my eyes as I read "I'm not what you wanted". I felt like calling him. I felt like apologizing. But what for? I was right. It was too early. We met about 5 days ago, and we've already kissed.

I couldn't find myself apologizing. Instead, I was walking out of the door, and sitting in my car. I held out my wrists in front of me.

Liam was perfect.

I was not.

I should be punished for making him feel that way.

More tears started falling from my eyes. I reached over to my secret cupboard and opened it, revealing all of my blades and tools of self harm. Without hesitating, I grabbed the smallest blade. I wouldn't cut a lot.. But I will cut.

I held out my left wrist in front of me and held the small blade in my right hand palm. I took slow, steady breaths and held the blade tightly.

I might regret this...

The blade ran over my skin, leaving a little cut losing a lot of blood. I smiled at the red liquid falling from my wrist. I repeated the process many times, covering my entire arm with cuts. After I finished I set the blade down in the cupboard and pulled my sleeve down. I started the car and just started to drive around the neighborhood.

While driving, I noticed a man that look in his late 20's or early 30'slying against a dumpster. He had scraggy black hair and a curly beard on his chin. He was wearing a worn out coat and some ripped jeans with a pair of dirty old sandals. I drove over to where he was sitting and rolled down my window.

"Hey!" I called out. The man looked my way, but showed no emotion in his look.

I parked my car by the dumpster, got out, and started walking towards the sickly looking man on the ground.

What are you doing? I thought to myself. This is dangerous.

My mind was blocked out by the sound of his raspy old voice.

"Who are you" he spoke.

I stared at him and hesitated. I didnt know him. He was just some hobo off the street. Should I give him my real name?

"Piper Wood" I finally said.

"I have some stuff. If you want some."

I stared at him confusingly. Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a baggie containing what looked like green powder. He took some of the powder and rolled it up in a rolling paper and lit it up. He stuck it in his mouth and inhaled, then exhaled, exposing his nasty smelling breath and the smell of weed.

He handed over a roll and a lighter to me. Without hesitating, I stuck the roll in my mouth and lit it up. I inhaled, exhaled. Inhaled, exhaled. Inhaled, exhaled. A puff of smoke left my mouth everytime I exhaled. I could feel my adrenaline start to pump. I was getting stoned.

No.

I am stoned.

We sat by the dumpster smoking the weed, talking and laughing. After 10 minutes or so, we were both completely stoned.

His hand started roaming up my leg to my inner thigh. I reluctantly pulled away. He then grabbed my by my waist and pulled me closer. I pushed away again. I could tell he started to angry because his grip was getting tighter. Worry started to fill all over me. I struggled to get out of his grip and finally managed. I sprinted over to my car, turned it on and drove away, leaving the stoned man behind.

I went inside of my hous without making any noise. I saw Missy asleep on the couch with my dad right beside her and slowly tip-toed up the ebony staircase. I opened my bedroom door and walked over to my cell phone. I didn't get any messages.

Thats when I fell to the floor and started bawling my eyes out.