Emotional Nerd Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

"I need walls." I thought to myself. Not the real walls that you could somehow tear down by force, but the walls that you could use to your advantage. The physical walls meant nothing here; in fact, my mom could waltz in any minute and see...
Maybe if I lay against the door I may have time to hide my arms. I didn't want to roll down my sleeves because the pain hurt. Weird that I didn't like pain I couldn't control. It was different, the hurt when I cut; it almost felt pleasing. The nerves being forced to break apart and the sensation of being right.
Of somehow proving my worth. Was I worth anything other than negative? "I'll be the best I can if that's the case. Whether it was bad or good. No more being plain.

"Boom, boom, boom!" Pounding on my door reminded me of how thin and flexible it was. Still I didn't move, instead I grew irritated.
"Cha cha! Room!" my little niece Aria said demandingly in her two year old voice. "Maybe I don't have to hate everyone. She is only two." My mind whispered. My crabby mood wanted to snap at it, but then again...
"Cha cha!" She shouted the name she had given my loud. She couldn't say Felicia so Cha cha was fine by me. I got up as slow as I wanted to and opened the door.
She was gone. Probable got detracted and ran the other way to find dogs, she loves dogs.

But that's not the reason I felt odd, (if that's what you call It.) to me it signified something. Something leaving me, I thought before I had a chance to shake it off.
I did and reconsidered. "I'm going crazy." I thought and went to take a shower.
It was nine at night and I had the dreaded school tomorrow. "I never used to hate school." Stop it! I hissed at myself. I didn't want to compare how I was, I had changed like every here.

The lighted bathroom was a perfect escape. Small, refined, and with a big mirror that glared at me with the morbid sight of my arms. I didn't cut where the veins were, I wasn't that stupid. (Though some people might think its cause I'm scared or something dumb like that.) I wanted to drag out the pain as long as I could by making the cut as deep as possible...

I unzipped my jacket knowing it was going to hurt. I sat on the counter and shrugged my way out of the sweater leaving about a inch from the rubbing fabric and my skin. It took time, and I had to do the same to the other side, and the shoulders.
The shoulders hurt the most; when I was done I stood front of the mirror, I looked like a red tiger. Oddly, (though I would NEVER admit this to anyone else...) I like it.
The pain, the drama, the hurt, the satisfaction that I won; my mom couldn't control Amber or change anything; but this was rubbing that in her face. She married this self-absorbed loser and I had no choice.

Now I had control without her even knowing, it was like manipulation but different, odder, weirder, in a way she going to totally hate.
But I didn't have to tell her.
I finished undressing and looked in the mirror one last time before entering the slow trickling water.
The mirror wasn't evil, it told the truth, no complications. It reminded me the reason why I was doing all of this...

I entered the shower. "Ahh!" I tried grunting down the hurting (and noise, showers and bathrooms in my house echo.) that was pounding though my cuts. The water was warm but to my body it sung. With trembling hands I whipped the knobs off. The little pressure that the water had was horrible.
Maybe from now on I had to take sponge baths, "or maybe it's another way to hurt yourself."
Was I getting too used to voices in my head? I began to wonder if some might not have been mine.....