I had never ran so fast before.

He betrayed me.

The one person I trusted, betrayed me.

I ran back to our bus, climbing in and storming past the members of his band, sobbing uncontrollably. I went into my suitcase and took out a small floral box from my bra drawer which had a lock on it. Ronnie hid the key from me back at home but, I would find a way to open it. My best friends were in there. I clutched that box close to my chest and ran out of the bus to hear Ronnie calling for me but, I blocked him out and sprinted away.

I had to get away.

I ran until I couldn’t run, I had found myself at a train station but, it seemed to be inactive. Through teary eyes I made my way down the road to a bridge. I placed the box on the railing, then I leaned down and grabbed the sharpest rock I could, took a deep breath before smashing the lock on my box. It came off with ease, I never put sturdy locks on it just for occasions like these.

I thought I could trust Ronnie but, I always make backup plans.

I can’t trust anyone.

Betrayal.

In the box, there was 7000 dollars in cash, a credit card, a fake ID saying that I am 21 years old, a few band aids and gauze, and my best friends. In a small plastic bag were the blades from razors that I removed, on each blade was a label with a word that describes the reason that I would be harming myself.

This was when my mind went into auto pilot, all feelings and thoughts numb.

I took my time when I opened the bag, slowly taking the blade labelled “Betrayal.” I haven’t used this one in a while… I moved my bracelets out of the way to reveal the silvery ravaged scars on my wrist. “What a shame…” I whispered, leaning my arms over the railing and carving into my skin, seeing the blood bubble forth which made me smile, it running down my arm and into the traffic . Blood makes me smile; I’m fucking insane. I carved until the pain was more than the betrayal I felt. I threw the betrayal blade into an empty bag which was there for dirty blades. I pulled out the blade labelled “Insane” and I did the same on my other arm. Once I was satisfied with the job, I put the blade away and grabbed the gauze and wrapped my arms, without a care if anyone were to see my bloody arms.

I walked down the road towards a motel, where I paid the person at the desk for some shitty room at the top floor. I quickly went and threw my bag and the box in there before running up to the roof.

Standing up on the edge, looking down at the pavement, really was freeing.

I would feel scared, or maybe anxious.

If I wasn’t numb.

Notes

MAJOR TRIGGERS!!!

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