• I sit in my house typing on the computer. It starts to rain. There is no one in the house besides me and my little sister, Isis. I look up from the computer screen and stare out the window. Despite all the lectures my mom has given me about going outside in the rain, I stand up and, wearing only my black sweater and my black pair of jeans, I walk outside the sliding glass door. I stand under our patio deck gazing out at the yard. I then step out from under the deck.

    The hard, icy water stings my face. In an instant my hair is drenched and clinging to my face. I tilt my head up to better feel the rain against my skin. I smile and for a second, I feel quiet and at peace. A tear runs down my face and as it does, the rain seems to pour faster and sting harder. I smile; Mother Nature’s telling me something. I stand there for hours just like that. My eyes are closed, and I’m just sitting there.

    My eyes open suddenly. I stare down at the ground. Red rain pours from my wrists. I have been so deep in thought that my hand has grabbed my pocket knife and slit my wrist. I smile, because it did not hurt; it is actually a relief to know I still bleed, that I’m still human. My mind races, my eyes open, and my thoughts widen. I suddenly turn and run. I have no idea where I’m running, I just am running, and that’s all I know for sure.

    I don’t know why, but I am running furiously, I am running with everything I have. I run as fast as my body will let me. I can feel every muscle in my body move in a sort of symphony with each other. It is kind of peaceful and comforting in a strange way. While I am running my mind only can think of one person: my darling, the only one who comforts me when I’m upset. As I am thinking of him, I start to cry my eyes out. I cry so much that my eyes burn. My wrists are starting to hurt, and I am leaving behind a bloody trail. I don’t care, though. I keep running until I trip and fall on a rock. I sit there as my forehead begins to bleed.

    I have fallen onto another rock and hit my head. I sit there wondering, “How will I get hurt next? And will it hurt as bad? Or will it be quick and painless?” I get up, now with multiple areas bleeding. I hold my wrist with one hand and slowly walk back to the house. As I do, I stare down at the sudden pain in my legs. I notice they are covered in blood, but I can’t see where it’s coming from. I walk on despite my pain.

    When I get to the house, my little sister’s eyes widen as she sees my bleeding body. I smile and walk by her. But before I can get away she turns around and asks me, "When are you going to forgive yourself and move on?'' I smile and face her. I tell her, "until the day I die I will not forgive myself, and I will never move on."

    I walk onwards toward the bathroom. I start the bath water, because I don’t feel like standing in a shower. As the water fills, I undress. As I do so, I see the goose-bumps on my body that are the many scars of "accidents." When I am undressed I still can’t see what is making my legs bleed, so I climb into the tub and start scrubbing off the mess on my legs. In no time I see that my legs have become tangled in barbed-wire fencing. It hurts like hell to pull the barbs out, but I do so just the same.
    After I am done in the bathroom, I get out of the tub. I look down at the water. It’s gone from a clear white to a dark red. I then pull the rusty drain from the porcelain tub. I turn and grab my towel. I quickly dry off, being cautious with my wounded areas and going a bit slower, I search through the blue paint chipped gore looking for some bandage wrap. I finally find just enough to cover my legs. I then put some medicine I find on my legs. The cool gel hits my legs and stings them, making me tense and cry out. I push back my tears and continue wrapping.

    I finally finish wrapping my legs; I then walk out into the messy living room. The wood walls are 50 years old. The is suppose to be blue carpet except it looks more grey with red juice stains. As walk out towards the living room, my sister, Isis, is not in sight. I shrug my shoulders I wrap my arm firmly on the guard-rail and make my way up the stairs. I get to the top and open my old, green door. I enter my room, and my two cats Kitten, and Songa, come to greet me. I push them aside and go to my closet. I grab a pair of long, baggy pants and put them on. I choose these pants so no one can see my legs. I then grab an old, brown t-shirt and go back down-stairs.
    There, I find my sister now waiting for me. She looks at me, tells me that our mom is going to be home shortly, and that she wants me to go and start working on the chores. So I call up one of my besties to come and help me with my work. I sit patiently on the couch, waiting for him to arrive. After only about five minutes, he arrives. We soon leave the house and go outside. We start up the old green truck and drive out to the horses.
    As we sit in the truck, he turns to me. He turns at me. But I have already fallen asleep in the truck. He smiles and kisses the top of my forehead. A little smile makes its way across my face. He smiles back and gets out of the truck. I wake up and turn around to look at him fork the hay into the truck bed. I smile again and get in the driver’s seat, waiting for him to finish so we can feed.

    After about 20 minutes he gets back into the truck and pulls me next to him. I lay my head against him as he holds me. He whispers little things into my ear, nice little things that make some of the physical pain in my body disappear. Then in my head, I remember some other events that have happened to me. Sudden emotional pain comes over me. I begin to realize in my head that I am afraid of this emotional pain, Of repeating my past, so I put on a fake smile and start up the truck.
    A nervous look is crosses my face. I know, because I can feel it, and I can feel that emotion of sadness and a couple others swelling inside me. I can feel grief, pain, fear, and very slight anger. He looks at me and softly says, “You need to tell me what’s going on, what’s wrong. How can I help if you push me away?” I look at him and very softly and really quietly say, “Maybe you aren’t meant to help. Maybe you aren’t meant to know my pain, ever consider that?” After this, we both are quiet and get the chores done quickly and, when we’re done he goes home, and I go inside. I slowly go up the stairs. I enter my room again and I shut my door and lock it. I lie down on my bed and wrap the covers around myself. I close my eyes and enter a deep dream. I wake up in the morning; I suddenly feel as I did, before I got all cut up and hurt. I lay there puzzled for a while. I check my legs and forehead; there isn’t one mark, anywhere. It’s as if it was all just a dream..