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7
When Melanie made it home she barged through the door, as though someone was waiting for her on the other side. There was no one. She was only met by silence.
She moved into the kitchen, sitting on the bench next to the pile of rejected manuscripts. It was like she was sitting next to another person, with the piles of envelopes, folders, and loose papers reaching threatening to topple.
This pile of papers, with the mass of a person couldn’t comfort her like he once did. Bad memories rose in her mind as she fished out a paper of significance from within a folder, the hand-written lyrics to what would have been her first single:
You say that you're here Love and respect Will you take a rain check? Love and respect So tell me, do I jump or stay? Love and respect She read it slowly, at the precise pace that she would if she were to sing it. Tears welled at the corner of her round eyes. Gravity did the rest. It rolled off her cheek and onto the delicate paper, smudging slightly the red ink in which the song was written. She placed the sheet back into the folder as the taunts from her childhood began to playback in her mind. Old enemies and friends alike were all invited to the show as the tears continued to come. "It's okay to cry. Let it all out." Her mind continued to race, psychotic uncertainties dancing in her eyes, waiting to spill out and take over her actions. It didn't take long. She rose, slowly walking towards the study, a passenger in an uncontrollable vehicle. Her mind was saying no, her conscious yes. Her body was saying yes, her common sense was... Not functioning. She reached the study as if walking in a trance, a monster intent on achieving only one goal. Pain. Nothing would have stopped her. She opened the draw mechanically, as if a robot. She retrieved the cold blade, and sat down on the chair. Staring in awe at the crimson stains at either end of the blade. She marvelled somewhere deep inside how many times she had used it for this simple task. Take away the pain. She closed her eyes, placing the sharp points of the blade between her forefinger and thumb. Her hands shook, as she forced her thumb and forefinger together and the blade caused blood to flow slightly. Smiling, but far from satisfied, her eyes opened, red, and bloodshot; caused by her futile weeping. The dark fabric band of her wristwatch seemed to talk to her. She removed it, witnessing the previous incision and burn, a physical reminder of mental pain. She braced herself, tensing her arm, as she rotated the blade so she had a firm control of it. The cold metallic tip made contact with her wrist, slowly but ineffectively numbing it. She would still feel most of the pain. She dug the cold metallic blade into her wrist, concentrating on depth and precision, ensuring she cut deeply over the veins in her wrist. That was not much of a problem, considering she had an image in her mind of exactly which places on her body secreted large volumes of blood from small cuts. At one of these very sites, conveniently below the morning's incision, she dug the blade in as deep and as firmly as possible until the pain overwhelmed her, causing her to stop. She did not remove the blade from her wrist. Blood spilt slowly from the wound, a comforting pain. Studying carefully the surface of her wrists, there were now three incisions, and a nasty looking burn. She braced herself for one final round. Left to right, she quickly moved the blade across her wrist, intentionally causing pain to dull the internal anguish. The other pain was in her head. That was the one that never truly went away. It only dulled while the endorphins hurried around her body. The platelets in her arm would already be heading towards the open wound to try and retard its flow. With this in mind, she hastily snapped the fabric band back onto her wrist, ignoring the stinging.
And I know you'll always be near
But I cannot accept you care
I love you but - I don't want to share
It's not you but I want to satisfy
You because you deserve dignified
Is misinterpreted neglect
There are choices in my head
But the voices wish I were dead...
Because when I really am a wreck
You'll be too far away to hear my scream
I want to achieve my simple dreams
Do not linger here
Because it's never near:
Is misinterpreted neglect
There are choices in my head
But the voices wish I were dead...
Can you take me far away?
And kill the demons in my mind?
Where are you going? Don't leave me behind
Fine. You leave me no choice...
But to listen to that voice...
Is misinterpreted neglect
There are choices in my head
But the voices wish I were dead...
"Don't worry. I'm here for you."
"I wish I could feel your pain."
"Why won't you ever stop?"
"It makes me so angry when you cry."
“I'm not going to tell you to stop because you have to get it all out.”
"Oh what are you crying about now?"
"Don't hide your crying eyes. There's nothing to be scared of."
"Please, don't be sad."
"I'm sorry."