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No More
Everything was not alright. It would not be okay. It had become too much. Enough was enough. I could take no more. I had told myself before I would not let them get to me, but this clearly was not true. I had to make sure they couldn't hurt me anymore. The clear blue tears I had been strongly resisting now began to reproduce in the creases of my eye. My black eyeliner was already smudging, and my hands were violently shaking. But this was nothing new. I had been here before, sitting with my legs pulled up against my shivering body, huddled in the far corner of my bedroom. “I will be strong. I will not cry.” I repeated to myself, hoping if I said it enough it would become true. But the damage had already been done, the tears already forming. The bitter words and hate-filled screams, spoken by the ones I loved, pierced through my skull and rung sound within my head. I choked back sobs as I buried my head in desperate weakness. A pain formed in the pit of my stomach, and I could feel my heart throbbing. I quickly pulled myself together, wiped my streaky cheeks, and headed straight for the bathroom. Once inside, I carefully locked the door behind me and began rummaging around the medicine cabinet. For a bad situation this was excellent timing. We still had Vicodin left over from my dad's surgery. How poetic it was that I would use something of his to ease the pain that came from him. I dumped the remainder of pills from the tube into my hand, shoved them all into my mouth, and swallowed hard, following it with a cup of cool water from the sink. The drugs, now being distributed throughout my body, would let me see how well the pain killer would work. I ceremoniously took off all of my clothing and laid myself down into the bathtub. I would make myself clean, but not by any standard method. Poised with razor in hand, I began to illustrate what had become of my life. With my body as a canvas, I washed away my pain with my own homemade concoction. I traced red lines up and over my legs as warm blood trickled down into the drain. I took a breath. Storming up the stairs, I could hear my parents ready for round two. I sketched scarlet slashes on my arms. Banging fists against the sealed door, they demanded to be let in, but I would not hear it. I carved marks down my body as blood filled in the crevasses. I painted pretty patterns over my abdomen. And when I stopped to admire my handiwork, I saw the bloody mess that outlined my life. I saw that I was no more.
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This article has 21 comments.
Very intense and emotional. I liked how it was nice and short, but it contained lots of information that was important to put in the story. I do have one suggestion, though:
You might want to put a little more about what te girl's parents did to her or said to her. It doesn't have to show everything exactly as it happened, because then it might get a little boring. But you could add a phrase or two of some of the words that they said to make her feel this way.
Other than that, I thought it was well written and emotionally powerful. I loved the description that you used near the end; great job!
Here I am fulfilling my duty to critique. (: Please don't take anything personally.
The beginning instantly grabs the reader in; I commend you for that. However, too much emphasis on how the reader suffers becomes slightly overwhelming. Three sentences would be adequate.
"The clear blue tears I had been..." I don't know if tears are exactly 'blue'. Water is clear, isn't it?
'I will be strong. I will not cry[,]' I repeated to myself, hoping if I said it enough it would come true.
'The bitter words and hate-filled screams... pierced through my skull and rung [/] in my head.
I love the part where you describe how the girl cuts herself. It's so poetic and descriptive! Love it.
However, try not to repeat things, like with the cutting scene.
But honestly, this piece is vivid and relatable. From reading your author's note, I wholeheartedly know what you mean. Keep writing.(:
The part that struck me most is when the character "ceremoniously took off all of [her] clothing and laid [herself] down into the bathtub." The imagery immediately evoked a scene of a Pagan ritual: a rebirth/cleansing of some sort.
When the narrator "painted pretty patterns over [her] abdomen" it is chilling to note just how much hurtful words/actions/situations affect people. So great is her yearning to get away from all the pain, that (numbed by the painkillers) she starts viewing her cuts with a morbid fascination/satisfaction.
This piece was truly excellent: powerful and moving. 5/5 :]
Hmm...I have mixed feelings about this piece...While I like it, it isn't normally the kind of story I read because...well, I'm a generally happy person. Not that I don't have problems, I just generally deal with them in a different way.
In all honesty...
In the beginning, I feel like the sentence are just too short and repeat the same thing over and over again...It just sounds a bit awkward, not flowing very well. But it happens to the best of us...And what may sound a bit awkward to some might sound perfect to other people (:
Overall, I did like it! Very descriptive. Dark, but kind of strangely beautiful. Not that I condone suicide! Not the solution!!! But I liked it! (:
Awh, this was a major contrast with the coffee story.
I liked the way you expressed the emotions. I think there should have been a little more emphasis on the pills, like its bitterness, that would play/ add on to the mood of the story.
Another issue was the spacing. I don't know if it was due to teenink, but if it was spaced, certain lines could have been isolated, making it a little more poignant.
Overall, I liked it!(:
Your story was well written and I really felt the baddness that this character was going through.
Very descriptive as well.
