**TRIGGER FOR SI, POSSIBLY ED, POSSIBLY OD, ABUSE**
I began writing this, out of the blue, using parts of my own memory and pure fiction.
(: Comment, review? Should I continue?
1. Admission
“I JUST WANT TO BE NORMAL”
I screamed this at the doctor, as they shut the door in my face. Grabbing at my hair, I screamed and screamed, before tossing my too thin body against the walls roughly, causing bruises to appear on my pale skin. I bruised too easily; it hurt like hell, but made me feel so much better. My haemophilia wasn’t about to get any better, and I wasn’t about to help it. I began punching at myself, wanting to hurt myself, craving the feel of a blade slicing my skin.
Again they had locked me away.
I collapsed upon the ground, closing my eyes and allowing sleep to take me off… almost wishing that my breathe would stop during my sleep. Hoping inside that I would die, and rid the world of myself. Nothing Toby could say helped.
Toby... God, how I miss you…
“Miss Perkovic, you need to wake up,” said a voice in my ear.
I yelped, and leapt up, feeling hands enclose around my wrists the instant I began to move, bringing my back painfully back to the floor. “Let me go!” I screamed, fighting against the doctor and assistants holding me down.
“Miss Perkovic, this is for your own good,” said the doctor.
I screamed, as I felt the prick of a needle in my arm. My body convulsed, and I felt… no I was… The hands released me as I began to heave, the acidic feel of the vomit burning my throat in its familiar way. I was now on my stomach, holding myself up with my hands on the cold ground. The vomit bit at me, and splashed to the ground. And there, they saw the half-dissolved white tablets, the mixture of purple and pink tablets, and the blood that began to appear as I emptied my stomach.
“What have you taken? WHAT THE **** HAVE YOU TAKEN!” yelled another doctor, turning me around so fast I wobbled and fell backwards into my own vomit. I glared at him, spitting blood and saliva into his face.
“You stupid girl,” he yelled again, lifting me up by the wrist, making me scream out in pain, and half-dragging me out of the room.
I found myself in another room, a bare white room, with a white metal bed, made up with perfect crisp white sheets, and a white desk and chair. A white wardrobe sat on one side. Everything was perfectly white, and I hated it.
Reaching into my padded bra, I slipped a finger in and drew out a blade, a sick smile appearing on my face. Sitting in the middle of that perfect white bed, I began to slice down on my left forearm. Only ever the left forearm… I don’t know why. The blood began to flow, little beads at first, before ribbons began to stain those perfect sheets.
“Harper, what are you doing?” said a voice at the door. A woman.
I looked up, my white hair falling into my pale face and sparkling blue eyes. That sick smile appeared on my face again, and I laughed.
“I’m hurting myself, what does it look like silly?” I said, pressing the blade into my wrist once more before the woman came across, and took my wrist delicately in her own, lifting the blade from me, and taking it in one gloved hand.
“I can’t let you do that, Harper,” she said.
“Whatever,” I said, ripping my wrist from her hand, and smearing the blood over my sheets, smiling sadistically.
“We need to get you to the clinic,” she said.
I turned my head to look at her, starting to become woozy. “What is your name, miss?” I said, half falling back onto the bed. She came across, both gloves on, and supported me.
“Lauren, one of your workers,” she replied.
“Well, Loz, my dear, I think I’m truly screwed, don’t you?” I replied. She looked at me as my vision drifted off and I passed out.
“Harper, open your eyes, now,” said a gruff, male voice a moment later, interrupting my blackness, my death. I opened them a tiny bit, and gasped, fighting against their hands.
“What the ****! What the ****!” I screamed.
The male voice, those familiar brown eyes, that familiar shock of brown hair. That skinny awkwardness, those tattoos, that cross around his neck…… All things my memory tried to keep hidden.
Toby.
Last edited by Airplanes : 12-09-2010 at 05:31 PM.
Reason: Bigger Font xD
"would someone care to classify our broken hearts and twisted minds, so i can find someone to rely on,
and run to them, to them full speed ahead."
-paramore
She laughed, happily, enveloping herself in his arms, that smile fixed upon her face. She looked up at his face, reaching up and brushing a brown lock of hair out of his beautiful brown eyes. He smiled, happy to be alive, and happy that she was still alive. His worried brown eyes brushed over the fresh red lines marking her left forearm.
“Harpy, I wish you didn’t do that,” he said.
“I’m sorry, To-bee Bear,” she said, giggling slightly as his hands went and tickled her to bring a smile on her face.
“I know,” he said, as usual.
My eyes opened slowly. Rubbing the sleep from them, I sat up. I was in that white room, but it didn’t seem as perfect now. That was when I noticed that the walls were actually painted a light blue, breaking up the perfect snow white. It pleased me.
My name is Harper Grace Perkovic. Yeah, weird last name, I know. It’s Croatian, from my father, like my father, but nothing like me. I am almost 18.
I looked down at my left forearm; it was stitched up, and bandaged. It made me wonder how many stitches it took to keep me together, when I felt like I was falling apart. A sick smile appeared on my face. I wondered if I could tear them apart. I shifted in my seat, and then felt something move on my face.
Looking up into the mirror, I spotted the tube running into my nose.
“What the ****!” I screamed, trying to tear it out.
“Harper, I can’t let you do that,” said a voice as the door opened and someone restrained my wrists to the bed.
Toby.
“To-bee Bear, what are you doing here?” I whispered, the tears already forming, all my fight fading away. I stared up at his eyes, and it was like looking back at me. He had shut me out of his emotions. I used to be so good at reading them. “Actually, better question, what is this place?” I said.
“Are you going to sit there, without removing the nasogastric tube? It’s there to help you gain weight, you’re awfully thin,” he asked, still restraining me with his body.
“I’ll sit, as long as you sit next to me,” I replied. He nodded and got up, allowing me to pull my body to a seated position on the bed. He sat down next to me, keeping space between us. And then it was silent for a few minutes, before he spoke.
“Do you know why Dr Peterson sent you here, Harper?” he asked, staring at the light blue walls, and not at me.
“Because I’m a danger to myself, and all that crap,” I replied in a bitter tone, bringing my legs up to my chest and resting my chin on my knees.
“Not only because of that… But because you tried to kill yourself in front of Zachy,” said Toby. He went to place a hand on my arm, but I shrugged his touch away.
“Do not touch me,” I growled, feeling myself lose control.
“Harper-“
“No.”
“Very well then. Lauren, myself and another worker named Robert are watching over you. You’re confined to this room until Dr Peterson decides you may join everyone else. Do you know where you are?” Toby asked.
“Roselle. Where my mother stuck my daddy when she didn’t want to deal with him,” I replied. “Where is Zachariah?”
Toby stood, and looked at me, allowing a sad look to enter his eyes, before swiping his card against the pin pad by the door. Hearing the click of the lock, he left, and never turned back.
“Zachariah,” I whispered to myself.
Where was he?
Did I want to get better for him?
Maybe.
I stood, and evaluated my situation. I was in Roselle, I was stitched up, and I had an NG tube. Yeah, they’re trying to make you fat again, Harpy girl. Look at all that blubbery fat dripping off your arms and face.
“Leave me alone, Mia,” I whispered.
Or what? Go on, throw up, I dare you pathetic girl. You’ll never be thin like me if you don’t.
I sighed, realising that a headache was forming the more I tried to fight her back. Without realising, I jammed two fingers down my throat, and gagged, throwing up upon the tiled floor. My door opened, and Lauren appeared, panicked.
“Harper!” she gasped, grabbing my hair and pulling it back into a messy knot, before giving me a bowl.
“I couldn’t hold Mia back,” I whispered, tears in my eyes. Lauren massaged my back in a circular motion, it was quite soothing.
“C’mon, lovey, let’s get something in you,” said Lauren, lifting me up and swiping her card on the door. She led me down a cheery hallway, towards the clinic. Sitting me down, she went across to a fridge, all the while keeping an eye on me in the mirror opposite. Lauren came back with a bottle of orange juice.
I loved orange juice.
My shaking hands held the bottle, staring at it.
“Lauren,” I said in a tiny voice.
“Yes, Harper?” she replied.
“Have you ever felt like the only thing holding you together, is also the thing that can tear you apart?”
The next update.
(which I hate, because I am quite unsafe at the moment)
A smiling little boy played on the equipment at the park, his mother watching on. They shared the same white hair, the same bright blue eyes, but her Zachariah was the only one who still had their smile. “Zachy! C’mon, time to go home!” she cried, lifting the picnic basket into her arm and feeling his soft skin as he raced up and slipped his hand into hers.
“Mama, Mama, did you see how high I went on the swing!” he said happily, as they reached the car. She lifted Zachariah into the backseat, strapping the boy in safely. He smiled, as his mother pressed her lips to his, giving him a kiss.
“I love you Mama,” he said.
“I love you too, Zachy,” she replied.
I’m on the edge about to break.
I sipped at the orange juice slowly, feeling as it slid down my throat and made the fat appear. I used to love juice, but never actual oranges. They made me sick. Lauren watched me, making sure I kept every bit down. I wanted to purge, oh so badly, I wanted to. Lauren then checked my blood pressure, and my blood sugar, declaring them fine before taking my arm and leading me back to my room.
“Where is Zachariah?” I whispered, as she shut the door of my room and turned to face me.
“No one knows except Toby,” replied Lauren, sitting down on the white seat of the desk.
“Bring him to me,” I ordered.
“Now Harper-“
“****ING BRING TOBY TO ME NOW!” I screamed, lunging at her. She leapt up, grabbing the chair, and using it to put distance between us. She swiped her badge, and slipped out the door, leaving me in a rage.
“Toby, where the hell is my son?” I muttered, slamming my fist into a wall. Drops of blood appeared in the little cuts on my hand. I smiled, and punched over and over again. It probably didn’t help my haemophilia, but I didn’t really care. I have a mild case of haemophilia, and it’s never stopped me from hurting myself. It just makes the cuts and bruises worse than they should be.
The door opened and Toby entered. I pounced on him, staring up at his blank face.
“Where is Zachariah?” I whispered, my voice deadly.
“With Eileen, my friend,” he replied.
“Toby, get Zachariah the **** away from Eileen,” I said, in that same deadly voice.
He looked at me. He knew I never liked Eileen. She was his ex-girlfriend, the one he dumped me for, when Zachariah was only a month old. Zachariah didn’t even acknowledge Toby as his father, I knew it hurt him. My mind flickered to Samuel, my twin brother.
“Where is Samuel? He can take Zachariah home,” I said.
“You killed him, Harper… When you tried to kill yourself,” said Toby.
I blacked out.
He was screaming in the backseat, and she didn’t even realise where she was driving. Her car swerved off the road, and plunged into the icy river. It was almost like it was in slow motion. She released her seat belt, and felt her body flying from the driver’s seat into the back. She was staring at his blue panicked eyes.
“Mama,” said Zachariah.
“Zachy. Come to Mama,” she said, unbuckling him as the car began to sink. Water rushed around the car, which slowly began to flood, and she held her son in her arms, closing her eyes. “Soon it will stop, Zachy.”
“Mama, I’m scared,” sobbed Zachariah, clinging to her, as the water rose slowly.
“Mama will keep you safe, Zachy,” she said, keeping him close.
The icy water washed over them, as the window smashed, and an arm reached in and grabbed Zachariah and his mother, dragging them through the water and up to the land of the living. He took the child from her arms, and began to breathe life back into him. Zachariah’s mother was coughing on the ground, her eyes fixed shut, one hand shifting and reaching into her pocket.
Zachariah began coughing, and began to breathe. “Mama,” he cried, as the man leant over his mother. She fought back at him, taking a switchblade out of her pocket and drawing it roughly across her wrists.
“Stop it!” cried the man. His white hair, like Zachariah’s hair, and like her hair, was smeared with water and blood. His blue eyes were the same as Zachariah’s, but held more worry and concern.
“I’m sorry Samuel,” said the woman, fighting back at him, before pressing the blade into his chest and pushing him from her roughly.
She got up, looking at Zachariah, who had sat up to watch his uncle fall back to the ground. “Come to Mama,” she said, lifting the boy into her arms. Her wrists were bleeding heavily, covering them both with her blood, before she walked back into the water.
“Mama, I don’t wanna,” cried Zachariah.
“Hush, baby. This is for our own good,” she said, silencing her little boy.
My eyes flickered open, and I found I was staring at the roof of my bedroom. “Zachy,” I let a whisper escape my soft lips, the memories flooding back. “I’m so sorry baby,” I whispered. Tears flowed from my pretty blue eyes, but at that moment, I didn’t think they were so pretty. These were the eyes of a woman who murdered her own twin brother, and tried to kill her own son. In a fit of madness, I had spun out of control, hurting those near to me, as usual.
A knock at the door woke me from my thoughts. I sat up slowly, without blinking, and stared as Lauren entered, followed by another man. He had short, messy brown-black hair, and browny-green eyes, that constantly were focusing and unfocusing. He was tall and skinny, his body leaning slightly forward from a stuffed spine.
truely wonderful
4 years free!!!!!!!!
