It is five past nine. I am sixteen years old. It is Saturday the 19th and the sunlight in streaming in through my light white blinds. I roll over in my bed and then gasp as I realise my hand feels as if it is burning me. I don’t want to look down, I don’t want to see the damage I have done. I take a deep breath and do it. Three of my knuckles have split, entirely, down their centre. I can see something white protruding from the centre knuckle. I feel very faint, is it bone? The skin surrounding these splits is blue, hints of black and purple which run down the front and back of my hand, fading as you go further from the impact. Then I look past my hand, my bed is scarlet. A large patch of blood had spread into my sheet and mattress. I realise I have gone very pale as I stagger from my room, supporting my hand, holding the wrist. I walk out of my house, not even thinking to tell my parents.
It hurts so much, I shouldn’t have done this. It’s so wrong. It’s my left hand; I wince at the swelling around my fingers. I wonder to myself if I will ever be able to wear a wedding ring, if anyone could stand me for long enough, the ring finger’s knuckle is almost as bad as the middle finger’s. I walk down the street, the 600yard to the bus stop and I sit on the seat. I don’t dare cry. I know which bus can drop me closest to the hospital. I’ve done this a few times before now. Oh, ****. I don’t have any money. None, how the hell am I going to get there? I wait to see if anyone else passes me by, someone who might have the decency to help me. No one walks past. I wait for the bus.
It pulls up, at nine fifteen. It’s the number 25. A good number, a multiple of 5, a square number. I stand weakly and step into the bus. The driver takes a look at me, in blood stained pyjamas, clutching my wrist. “I don’t have any money.” I say, looking down a little. He smiles weakly.
“That’s alright little lady. I think I can get you to St Catherine’s alright without for once.” I walk back to the closest seat to the door that is unoccupied. I lean back carefully; I can feel every movement pulling the skin around my hand.
“Oh my God. Are you okay?” Says a voice which appears to have originated just behind my head. I can’t turn but apparently that is no hardship. Lucy Chapman bounds around to my seat, she crouches next to me. “You go to school right? You’re in my year I think.” She says to me. I nod once. “So, how did that happen? It’s gross. Is that bone, coz like that is really serious? Shouldn’t it be like in a bandage what if bugs got in?”
As quickly as I could I thought of an explanation. “I was going to be driven into town this morning. My mum slammed the car door on my hand by accident. And I’m going to hospital now.”
She looks me up and down, she frowns. “So, why are you in your pyjamas? And why didn’t your Mum take you in?”
I don’t say anything at all. I don’t really care. I look at my arms. Bleeding, bandaged. I imagine my thighs and hips, scarred. For once I don’t see it as armour, it’s not something I should see as beautiful. I have spoiled myself. She keeps talking to me and I blank it out, I draw a girl in my mind, an outline, a female outline. That’s me, empty, and then I draw on the scars. I watch as her empty limbs fill with colour. I’m more scars than skin now. It my stop, nine twenty-six. I walk off the bus. Images of myself still flooding my mind. I don’t even thank the driver. I just walk into the hospital. I’m empty, I’m lost. I don’t need to kill myself. I’ve already done that.
I have no life left. I’m dead.
System A
Sophie Mandi Max Gwen Mercy Erin AVA Tracey Bridget My Isaac
It is fifteen minutes past six. I am six years old. It was my birthday yesterday. I got a toy cat, her name is Flip and I love her. She is the best thing I have got for a birthday yet. She is so pretty. I don’t know why I love her so much. I just do. We just ate birthday tea together and I had a piece of cake. It tasted like strawberries. Mummy is trying very hard at the moment. She doesn’t want to make it so I can’t have a normal birthday like all the other children in my class. I love my Mummy. Daddy has been telling me a little bit more about why she is acting funny. He says Mummy hasn’t got enough happy chemicals inside her head for her to be normal but the reason she is getting better is because she is taking some medicine which has happy chemicals inside of it and so she can maybe be more happy without having to try so hard. She was more talkative today and even gave me a hug. She felt really thin though, I could feel her ribs, I don’t think that she has been eating as much as she should have been because of all the pills she has to take. Flip is really lovely. She is going to come to school with me. Delilah, my dolly stays on my bed but Flip is brave, she can come into school with me.
System A
Sophie Mandi Max Gwen Mercy Erin AVA Tracey Bridget My Isaac
It is ten twenty four. I am ten years old. Sam and I are sitting next to each other in class. We are learning more about fractions. Which is fun. He doesn’t really understand maths too well, but I help him, he helps me with spelling. I’m really bad at spelling. He holds my hand underneath the desk. We are together, we’re not boyfriend and girlfriend because we don’t love each other but we can hold hands still because we are really good friends. All of his old friends don’t really talk to him anymore. They don’t understand why he’s not interested in boy stuff anymore, he says he’s perfectly happy to stay with me, to play games that we both like. I don’t think his friends are old enough to know that girls and boys are allowed to be friends. Sam is going to come to my house tonight. We are going to have a birthday party together. I had made a tiara in art a few days ago, with glitter and stuff. Sam says if I want, I can be the princess and he can be my prince. I said yes.
System A
Sophie Mandi Max Gwen Mercy Erin AVA Tracey Bridget My Isaac
It is nine twenty. I am fourteen years old. It is the day before my birthday. Ed and I are still ‘going out’. My plan worked. For the last week or so the fact I am talking to and interacting with another human being, the fact he can bear to be around me, that he likes me even makes me into a real person. If I can have rumours spread about me, that I like to have sex behind the bike-shed during break, that my scars are from S&M, that I’ve only dated my cousins before now. If these horrid lies can be spread then the attention from my reality can be deflected. No one cares about the fact I am underweight, or that I skip lessons all the time. Why would they care? After all, I’m now the girl who is into S&M. And how much more interesting is that than my truth?
System A
Sophie Mandi Max Gwen Mercy Erin AVA Tracey Bridget My Isaac
It is ten to ten. I am sixteen years old. I have just been let into the nurses station before proceeding to the ER, just through one door, stitches and I’ll be out of here. The nurse looks at my hand, she lifts it lightly. “Oh my…” she says softly. “This could be broken, we’re going to need to X-ray this.”
“It’s not broken.” I say. “Please. I promise you.” She looks slightly doubting, raising my hand a little I wince with the pain and my sleeve slips down my arm to my elbow. My bandage is exposed. Lines and tracks of scars. She pulls my sleeve up further. She knows I am scarred. Wrist to elbow. She frowns and says sympathetically, “one moment.”
My heart races as she stands and leaves the room. I hear whispering just past the door. I want to run, I know what they will be talking about. They are going to tell my parents. I don’t want to do that to Dad, he can’t know that his family have ****ed up twice. He can’t lose the both of us. I am not like my mother. I hate her. Please don’t let me be like her. The nurse enters the room. “A doctor can see you now. “ She says and leads me through the door. I am put into a compartment, the curtains are drawn shut. The curtains have a pattern, blue seashells, seahorses, a tiny windmill and a bucket and spade. I quickly work out the ratio’s, wonder if the makers knew that someone would ever do this.
The nurse returns, “Right then, Stacy is it?” She says and I nod. I know better than to give my real name and address too often in the same place. “These are for the pain.” She hands me a small cardboard pill holder. Two small white, circular pills.
“What are they?” I ask, suspicious of her motives. I’ve never been offered pain killers before.
“Codine. They are strong and opiates. They will make everything here a little easier for you.”
I quickly tip my head back and swallow the pills dry.
“Stacy, there is one more thing I need to ask you to do for me. I am going to have to ask you to take your clothes off, to wear a gown. Any earrings, bracelets, necklaces, tongue bars, anything metal into this container.” She points to a shallow silver tray in the corner of the room. “A doctor will be in shortly to examine you.
The nurse leaves and I look down helplessly at my clothes. How the hell do I undress myself.
“I’m so sorry.” The nurse says, barging back in my room. “You are going to require some assistance.” She slips on a pair of gloves, I have no clue why, then helps me wriggle out of my pyjama bottoms. I have to be nonchalant about my nudity, and about my scars. She is good, se doesn’t gasp this time. She pulls a weak smile as she turns me around, to remove my top. She looks at the blood stains all over it and she reaches for a pair of scissors. “Would you mind if I cut you out of this, only it’s probably never going to wash clean and it will hurt a whole lot less.”
I shrug. “What will I wear home?” She looks absent for a moment then smiles a little. “I’m sure I can sort that out for you. I have a break soon.” She begins to cut at the material. It is light and soft and the scissors break through easily. Soon I am naked, she passes me the gown, averting her eyes from my body. “Stacy I am going to have to incinerate these clothes, if that is okay. It’s hospital policy, seeing as it is covered in a potentially dangerous substance.”
“Sure.” I say, beyond caring now.
The nurse leaves the room and I wait for my doctor. God knows how much trouble I’m going to be in with the health service.
System A
Sophie Mandi Max Gwen Mercy Erin AVA Tracey Bridget My Isaac
