The blade scrapes against my skin as red, thick blood trickles down my arm. I sniffle, the tears burning the wound I had just made. Drops of blood flicker to the floor and I’m just sitting on my bathtub, crying and shaking, my hands trembling. I drop the blade as it clatters onto the bath loudly. I grab a paper towel and wipe up the blood before it stains and run my arm under the sink, the cold water stinging as I clench my teeth and grimace away. Someone knocks on the door, “Eve, you’ve been in there forever” my big sister, Kelly says irritably. I pull my sleeve down to my fingers and check again to see if there are any stains around. I grab for the blade and slip it in my pocket. I left, shoving past her before she could see my tearstained face. “Hey, Eve,” she says, but I run to my room and throw on my jacket and book bag. I see her close the door behind her and pray she doesn’t see any blood splattered. I run down the stairs, hear my dad say, “You want breakfast?” and shake my head, “No thanks” I say hurriedly and leave quickly. I jog down the block and once I get to the corner, I collapse against the wall of an apartment building. I’m huffing and puffing, my breath coming out in short pants. I pull my sleeve up and see the red line that now ran across my arm. I shake my head, you said you were going to stop, Eve, what the hell’s wrong with you? I think silently. The cold outside hits me for the first time since I get outside. I button my jacket with shaking fingers and lean my head back on the wall, trying to get my head straight before I get to school.



School comes and goes in a blur. Teachers drone on and on about different things, no one caring at all how to multiply exponents or the Sumerians or how the evolution of humans came to be. When lunch rolls around, I’m hungry as ever and not excited to see the jungle of a high school I hate. I jump on the lunch line, trying not to be noticed, but it’s hard. Around here, everyone’s bright and happy most of the time, and I stick out like a sore thumb. I’m wearing black, not because I think I’m emo and cool or whatever, but because in the beginning of the year, my “best friend” Sandy, ditched me. I thought I was so smart, so I went on a rampage, dying all my clothes black, even my dresses. Sandy walks by me with her clique, all dressed in bright greens, pinks, and yellow sweaters. “Oh look, its Darth Vader’s little mistake” Carly sneers, her voice tight and scrutinizing. I glare at her and move up in the line, my fists shaking. Heather, the top snob, laughs, “Oh god, look at that her, what monster crapped on her shirt?” she puts her manicured hand on top of her mouth, giggling. Sandy starts cracking up, and I look back, still so shocked even though it’s not the first time she’s been this way. That laugh, it was just so weird, how it used to laugh at my jokes and the stupid videos we used to watch. “Seriously, Eve, I don’t even know why you bother living right now” Carly says between chokes of laughter. I close my eyes, trying to contain my temper, but I know any minute I’ll lose it. Sandy whispers, loud enough for me to hear, “No wonder her mom left her to go to heaven, there’s too much black in her to take” she says. I know that she didn’t mean to say it loud enough to say it, she has a loud voice, but still, she said it. I turn on my heel and jump on her, my hands digging into her neck. People scream around me, laughter, cheering and teachers voices melting into each other. “B****!” I scream, my pulse raging under my skin. Someone pulls me off of her, and I look up and push them away. It’s the principal, I recognize, and go to punch Sandy in the face again. Blood trickles from her nose and she looks up and screams, tears springing to her eyes. Security now grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me back, my legs still kicking in midair. I’m carried away as a nurse kneels down to Sandy, sobbing and shaking.


I sit in the Principal’s office, staring at the picture of her with the Mayor. Her smile is fake and plastic. But the real principal sitting before me-I don’t even register her existence there- I’m still surprised that I punched Sandy that hard. “Eve, are you listening to me?” she asked sternly. I look up, “What? Yeah” I say, staring at my black fingernails. “Eve, this has not been the first time you have acted up this bad before. I’m afraid I cannot let this slide. I will call your father and then we will discuss the different methods of anger management and therapy we can offer to help you.” I get up on instinct, “Um, excuse me, Ms Dawn, but with all due respect I don’t need anger management.” She cocked an eyebrow, “After that scene you showed out there today, I would dare to disagree.” I sat back down, sighing, my head in my hands. “Please Ms D, I can’t…I have soccer practice after school, and I need to keep my grades up, I can’t… I really don’t have time for this.” She tilts her head back and examines me, “No, Eve, you will meet with the therapy group at lunch time, every day. If your behavior improves, the days will decrease, or stop altogether. But that’s when you act like a proper lady.” I stare at the floor. A knock comes from the door and my dad bursts in, his usual calm hair swaying above his head, his wire-rimmed glasses balancing dangerously on his head. “Dad” I say. He glances at me and sits down, cups my face, “Are you okay? What did those girls do to you?” he whispered. Ms Dawn clears her throat and my dad removes his hands from my face, “My apologies” he says. Ms Dawn slaps my file on her desk, “Your daughter, Eve, started a fight today with Sandy at lunch. She jumped on her and choked her. Along with the random bursts of violence and anger, I would like to talk about some options that will certainly help Eve.” My dad eyes her, “What do you mean options?” he asked skeptically. “If you would, Eve, please step out so I may talk to your father.” I nod and get up, walking out the door, trying not to cry as I sit down on the bench outside the office.


Ten minutes later, my dad comes out, pushes hair back and sits down with a heavy sigh. “Eve, Eve, Eve” he mumbles, rubbing his forehead. I look up, and know he’s disappointed. “Why can’t you just…” I get up, “What dad? HUH? WHY CANT I BE NORMAL?” I scream, the anger throbbing in my veins. He looks up, his eyes widened, “Eve, what are you-” I shake my head, my fists curled as sobs tear from my throat. “Yeah dad, you just wish I was like Kelly or mom. Right? All bright and rainbows, well this is who I am!” I scream, gesturing to my black wardrobe. “Eve, please” he says quietly. I shake my head, “NO dad! You need to hear this! You…look at me…dad, why wont you look at me? Your no better than the girls here at this s***** school! I’m a monster, dad, say it, I can hear you thinking it. I’m just a monster!” I yell, and take off into the girls bathroom. I collapse in a stall and sob into my sleeve, tears and snot dribbling down my shirt as I scream and scream. “I HATE YOU!” I scream over and over again. I take out my blade, flick it open and cut myself again, deeper this time, so a whole fountain of blood pours out from me. I sob, trying to control myself, but I can’t. I just…can’t. I cut myself again, deep into my skin, trying to see how deep I can cut until my arm comes off. But then the blood starts dribbling on the floor and I get up to wipe it, flush the tissue down the toilet, and hope that my arm doesn’t keep continue bleeding through my shirt. I look myself in the dingy mirror and see my reflection. My jet black hair and blue eyes, all from my mom. It was such a shame, I think. That I’m alive, looking like her, cutting myself and wasting blood and life, wasting space. While she is dead, underground, never to be seen again.