Silence Chapter Three

Chapter Three

"She paints a pretty picture,

But this picture has a twist.

Her paintbrush is a razor,

And her canvas is her wrist."

My forehead throbbed as I walked home. My eyes were like the current sky; sad and dark, threatening for tears to spill. I had yet again managed to be silent. I had managed it, barely. Whenever a teacher asked me what was wrong, I stared straight ahead. When I was sent to the nurse, I was speechless. 

If they wanted to know what's wrong, they should see what's right in front of them. Just by pulling up my sleeves you could see the scarlet bandages. Just by watching me during class, you could witness what was happening. But they pretended I never existed, like I wouldn't soon enough. 

Trembling, I walked inside. My eyes had dampened, but a drop had yet to fall. But when I reached my bedroom door, as I twisted the handle, the tears followed. Each one carrying another breath lost. Falling to the floor, I put my head in my hands. 


"Marie?" A small voice whispers. "Marie, are you alright?" And that is the moment I broke my rule. I stopped the tears when the eleven year old sat down, next to me, her arms wrapping around my frame.

"Shh, Marie, it's alright. Marie, it's okay. Please stop crying."

I hiccuped, responding, "I'm fine. Cass, just go back to your room." I had shattered the silence. The silence I had kept for three weeks. "Please, Cass," I begged, rain beginning to patter outside, "please."

Worried, she stood up, her eyes full of concern. She was the only person I would miss. I would miss her small little arms around my waist, those big blue eyes that followed your every move, her tiny little smile. But she couldn't know what was happening. It would crush her forever; her eyes would never light up again. She would never smile. And those blue eyes would darken forever.

She left, closing the door behind her with a small click. I crawled to my bed, reached underneath it, and got the blade. Drawing it across my wrist, I began to bawl. 

"Shh, Marie, it's alright. Marie, it's okay. Please stop crying."

I didn't stop. The blade didn't stop moving, the tears didn't stop running. The stinging pain was familiar now, the motions a habit, a routine. 

"Shh, Marie, it's alright. Marie, it's okay. Please stop crying."