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Crimson Tears

by Natasha Mills, Winnipeg, Canada, Age 18

‘She didn’t need him.’ At least that’s what she kept telling herself. On the outside, she was a tough and independent gal, but underneath all that, all she really wanted was to be loved.

A tear trailed down her cheek. How many times had she been rejected? How many times had she been thrown away, like the ‘trash she was’ (or so everyone kept gossiping about behind her back, as if she wouldn’t hear). This was just another number on the great list of ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ scenarios. Was she not pretty enough? Probably. F*** them though. Glamour was overrated. She glanced at herself in the mirror.

Two blue eyes wrapped in fading black eyeliner were staring at her through the glass. Dark trails ran down her pale skin where her tears had fled her eyes. Wild curls of blonde framed her entire face, except where the edges of two ears popped out. Her lips were neither full, nor thin, and were a glossy cherry shade.

Really, she wasn’t hideous or anything, so that couldn’t be the reason. Maybe she was too tall? Too loud? Maybe they didn’t like the way she ate. Did she have bad breath? Then a frightening thought presented itself to her. Did she not have anything in common with anyone? At all? There must be something that people liked about her; something that they shared together. Was she really alone in this world?

She sat down on the tiled floor by the sink counter. Her face rested on her knees.

‘ Why? Why? Why?’ She just didn’t get it. Reasons began to fill her mind; all her flaws; every little thing she ever did wrong.

Tears began to fall down her face again, so many tears. She slid her bag over towards her along the tiles and rummaged around a bit before producing a knife. If she was so flawed that no one wanted her, then she might as well leave this world. She had no place being a waste of time for anyone. Taking the blade in one hand, she ran it across her wrist. Slit. Slit. Slit. Crimson fluid poured from the cuts. First slowly, then rushing down her arms. She hissed at the sting. Resting her head against the wall, she waited. No one would find her there. It was the last place she would have gone to. She smiled at the irony, ‘death in the girls’ washroom’. By then the pain had subsided to a dull throb and she was able to just sort of enjoy the moment.

She suddenly thought of how long it was taking. She should have felt faint, or at least nauseous by then. Blood continued to trickle down her skin in slow constant rivers.

'Maybe just one more cut.’ she thought to herself. ‘That should do it. Just one more’. She picked up her knife from the floor at her side where she had left it and slid is across her thigh. A wide gash, dripping with sticky red fluid now sat there on her pale flesh. All the fat and veins could be seen. She was really intrigued by it. The idea that this visual probably should be scaring her into trying to stop it, but she just sat there in a kind of casual detachment that only resolution can bring. She knew she was going to die, that’s what she wanted. That’s what everyone wanted. The girl wondered if people would laugh at her after she was gone. Call her names. ‘Probably, those bastards.’

She ran her fingers over the floor. It felt cool under her touch. Maybe she would just lie down. Her head felt funny. The room was tipping. It seemed the world just decided to take a dive, and then suddenly it didn’t matter if she wanted to or not, she was on the floor. Blotches of light danced around in front of her eyes and no matter how much control she thought she had, she knew then that the lack of nausea was now filled, and soon her stomach would not be. The floor felt nice. The cool tiles helped the spinning.

By now a dark puddle had formed around her. Her clothes were soaking up most of the mess, but they were saturated. Her mind drifted, like the flow of the ocean. In…out…in…out….blank. When she was conscious, her mind was still foggy. She just wanted it to end. It was all her fault that she was such a failure. No one liked her because she was a waste. She was so ugly, and dirty. She was a whore. She didn’t dress nice enough. She was an idiot; moron; criminal. She had stolen her mother’s freedom. She didn’t get good grades. Month after month after month she sat around and did nothing with her life. She had neither dreams, nor goals after high school.

Her eyes were heavy. ‘Soon’ she said to herself…. ‘Soon’. Her mind drifted off again. Her mind swayed like that for a long time it seemed, and then she woke up and there was a familiar figure leaning over her. They were tall and it seemed that, whoever they were, should have been wearing a scowl. They weren’t though. They looked concerned. She felt cold, lying on the floor. The person was shaking her, calling her name. Everything was distant. Her head was throbbing and she ached. Oh how she ached. Why was she still there, lying on the cold tile floor? Why wasn’t she gone yet? Why couldn’t she at least have that? She began to cry again. Not sobbing, just tears falling down her face. Not only was she a waste, but also selfish. She hated that. Tears.

Her mind rolled again. Darkness took her.

When she awoke again, it was too bright, lights shining overhead. She wasn’t cold anymore. A blanket was wrapped around her. She coughed and tried to sit up, but couldn’t. Her body felt heavy. Her head ached. From where she was, she could see that there were railings along the edges of her bed. She saw her mom across the room talking to a man in a white coat, speaking in hurried whispers. Her mom looked worried. Stressed wrinkles lined her face. She was hugging herself as the doctor explained something.

The girl’s mother looked over at her and saw that she was awake. Relief filled her face as she made her way over to the girl.

“ Honey... You’re awake,” she smiled at the girl and patted her hair.
“ Hi mom,” she coughed.
“ How are you feeling honey?” her mom asked in a soft cautious tone.
“ I’m ok,” she said.

Her mother just looked at her for moment. A look of disquieted horror crossed her face for a moment, before she broke down.

“ Oh honey! Why did you do it? Did I not love you enough? Were there problems at school? You know you could have come to be for help! Oh honey! I love you so much! Why did you do it? If only I had been there for you more, maybe this wouldn’t have happened!” her mom sobbed uncontrollably.

The girl could only look at her mom. She was so dumbfounded. What was she talking about? It was all her fault. Now her mom was crying. ‘What the hell?’ she thought Why was she still here anyway? ‘What a screwed up system.’, she cursed to herself silently. Her plan was ruined. Why had it not worked? Why was she now sitting here watching her mother babble about how she wished that the girl had confided in her more?

Then her mother blew her nose, which brought the girl out of her train of thought.

“ But everything okay now darlin’. You’ll see,” her mother said patting the girl’s hand. The problem was, she didn’t know if everything was ok now... She didn’t know if everything would ever be okay again.

End.


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