Broken Pieces

CHAPTER {15}

AKARI

Every time I looked into the mirror, looked even worse than I did the last. I didn't recognize who I was looking at. A tear rolled down my cheek from my eye. My dull grey eyes. Another tear rolled down.

The scars. They ruined me. I never liked looking at myself because of that stupid scar. It always brought me back to the day I got it. I was 11 and I had gotten used to the slaps and the punches.

But I think my mother realized that she wasn't causing me enough pain. I had caught her drinking and I asked if she was okay. She looked at me with a murderous look. A look that was permanently stuck in my head.

She walked towards me, my eleven year old self thought she was going to slap me or punched me like she always did. I braced myself, but soon enough I realized I bracing myself for the wrong thing.

She slammed her half drunk bottle onto my head. As the bottle shattered on my head, she dragged the now jagged bottle across my face and I staggered back and fell onto the floor. I pressed onto the wound and looked up at her and she had a sick, sick smile plastered over her lips.

That was the moment I hated her the most.

Another tear, but this time, it wasn't a tear of sadness but the tear of my skin. I had realized that I was scratching my scars causing them to open. I watched my blood disappear into the drain. I was tired. So tired.

I sunk down and rested my back against the cabinet. I didn't bother cleaning my arms and sat staring at the ceiling. I rested my head against the cabinet door and let out a slow exhale and a sob followed.

I'm trying. I'm really trying to be okay. For Domenico but the more I try the more I realize that whatever's going on with me will never go away. The nightmares, the scars, they are apart of me now and I've accepted it.

Another sob echoed through the bathroom. After dinner last night, I vomited. The urge was growing the more I ate and I knew if I didn't do it, I'd end up being fat. I looked up at the ceiling and momentarily closed my eyes until I opened them again and took a deep breath.

I haven't slept fully in weeks, sleep was truly a privilege. The restful nights were something I dreamed of every day ever since I turned thirteen. Not having to worry about waking up to a beating. Not having to worry about oversleeping and getting into trouble. Not having to worry about having nightmares. Not having to worry at all.

This whole situation has left me more restless than I was before they found out and if this is them when they found out about my eating disorder, what about when they found out about my scars.
I let out another sob and looked down at my crossed legs.

There were little droplets of blood on the floor from my cuts. I looked at my wrist and the blood had dried up. I looked at the rest of my healing cuts and stared at them for a while until I began to scratch them as well. I scratched until they opened again.

I didn't get up immediately though, I watched. I watched the blood roll to the back of my hand and splash on the floor some drops went on my pants but I still watched.

The best way to solve all my problems was to not sleep. It did leave me to my thoughts which were not any better but then was no risk of missing if I was called, or missing the footsteps that would come towards my door as minimal.

I finally stood up from the floor and I looked at myself again in the mirror and began to cry. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to pretend that I can do it. To pretend that I'm strong when in reality, I'm the weakest person you'll ever meet.

They keep telling me to be okay but I don't even know how to be okay. The voice in the back of my constantly shouting at me, 'be better!', 'beauty is pain!' And that was truth, the most painful thing is to be beautiful.

No matter how beautiful you are, there's always someone who will be more beautiful than you. My mother always reminded me how I wasn't even considered beautiful. The more I grew the more I realized that it was my fault that my mother treated me like she did.

It's my fault that I turned out this way because I hadn't done one good thing for her and that's what caused her to hate me. All my life I had been blaming her when I was the one at fault.

After a while of crying, I was seated on the floor again staring at the toilet in front of me. I was numb. I couldn't feel anything. I hated the feeling. It always happened when I was in too much pain that I couldn't feel anything.

I opened the cabinet, took out the razor and watched as blood dropped down from my armed to the floor. I still couldn't feel anything so I cut another line, nothing. I cut and cut and I was growing frustrated because I still couldn't feel anything.

I stopped.

I sighed as I realized that cutting wasn't going to do anything. I slowly began to untie my boot and as I fell of my ankle, I stood up to undress myself and went into the shower.This time I bathed with cold water.

It always made me feel again. It felt as if I wasn't even under the water. I took a deep breath and tried to focus on the water. I was slowly gaining feeling, from my hair being damp to the sting of my cuts. I felt the water hit my body and slowly roll down into the puddle at my feet that was more blood than water.

After I fully gained my feeling, I started to scrub myself with my loafer until I felt clean enough and exited the shower. I grabbed my robe and wrapped my arms in gauze and went into the room.

I removed my robe and moisturized my body with lotion. I put on my underwear and wore a sports bra. I wore a black shirt, dark green sweatpants with a matching sweater and wore black socks. I sprayed some perfume and went towards the study table.

I took the phone and turned it on, 6:57am, the time read. 2 hours until breakfast and 33 minutes until I have to put my boot back on. I sat in my chair and unlocked the phone. I browsed through it and opened some of the apps Alexandros had put in the phone.

Before I knew it, it was already nine and it was time for breakfast. I turned off the phone and went towards the door. Boot tightly wrapped around my ankle. I took a deep breath, preparing myself to eat and avoid vomiting in front of everyone and went out the room and made my wat to the dining room.

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A/N
Sorry the chapter is bad, I had bad writer's block so I was just throwing in ideas. I will do better in the next chapter. I hope you're enjoying the book🫶🏽