18 June 2012
After a moment, Paul typed:
"EMILY YOU ARE THE BIGGEST FREAKING ATTENTION WHORE I'VE EVER KNOWN
STOP PLAYING THESE FREAKING STUPID GAMES
OMG GUYS IM SCRATCHING MY WRISTS BECAUSE IM SO GOTH FEEL SORRY FOR ME
WELL YOU KNOW WHAT"
I didn't read anymore.
"That's it," I thought, tears pouring from my eyes. "That's it."
That night, by the light of my iPhone, I did it. My whole left wrist. Covered in cuts.
The first drop of blood made me feel sick.
"I just broke my promise," I thought, staring at the first cut.
"Again."
So I did.
Again and again and again and again.
"It's okay," my mind lied. "You'll hide it tomorrow. Go to bed now. You will do this again. You will feel better."
And I believed myself.
I believed myself.
The Broken Promise (P4) • Opuss № I