I didn't know exactly what to call this, but here goes.....
The girl was thrown against the wall. Her whole body felt sore now. The girl was no older than thirteen, with fair brown hair, and was about 5' 2". "Stupid girl...Wish you'd....Never been born...." the tower of a man before her roared. Her father was in one of his drunken rages, and was taking his frustrations out on his poor daughter. The daughter in questions name was Lisa.
"Dad....Please, stop....." she pleaded. For once in his worthless life, he actually took pity on her. "Fine....Go to bed, damned girl...." je said, sluggishly. Lisa got up from her beating, and quietly went down the hall. She went to the last room of the hall, and shut the door, locking it. The girl went to her closet, and rummaged through the clothes on the floor. She pulled out her most prized posession--a razor. Pulling the silver razor across her skin, she thought about all the horrible things that had happened that day, while the crimson tears poured from her wrist.
Then the phone rang.. She put the razor back under her pile of clothes, and grabbed the phone off her shelf (as her father was in no condition to talk on the phone). "Hello?" she answered.
"Lisa?" a male voice inquired.
"Yes, who is this?" Lisa replied.
"You should know by now!" the male voice replied back.
"Shut up, David...." Lisa giggled. She remembered her arm was still bleeding, and needed to make it stop. "Uh...sorry to cut the conversation short, but my dad needs me to help him with something. Bye." Then, she hung up.
David was one of her best friends, along with Ashley and Heather, two girls who had know Lisa since kindergarten. None of them knew that Lisa self-injured, or her dad abused her. Lisa contemplated this for a moment, as she aplied a wet rag on her wrist to stop the bleeding. "Someone should know....I should tell somebody....". The bleeding on her wrist had stopped, and she decided she'd go to bed. She laid down on her bed, and almost instantly fell asleep.
The next day at school was rather hectic. Everyone seemed to be having a horrible day. "Three tests, five pages of homework, and a report, due by tommorow." David rambled. He did that sometimes, especially when he was trying to make a point. But he would ver actually GEt to the point he was trying to make. Everyone had pretty much learned to tune hime out. Lisa was thinking about what she was going to do this afternoon. Probably go to the mall, do homework, and stay as far out of her father's way as possible. "Guys....Can we talk during lunch...?" Lisa suddenly heard herself asking. Immediately she wanted to take the words back. She didn't want to tell them. Not yet. "Sure!" everyone replied in unison. They all went their seperate ways for the last period before lunch, leaving Lisa standing alone in the hallway. She sighed. She didn't want lunch to come.
Unfortunately for Lisa, lunch came rather quickly. At least, it felt that way. Lisa arrived at the usual table the group sat at, and set her bag down. David, Ashley, and Heather all arrived shortly after. "So, what'd you want to talk to us about?" Heather took the lead. "Can we....Not do it here?" Lisa asked, sheepishly. The group eyed each other for a second, before Heather and Ashley took Lisa by the arm outside. The group went out to the Tennis courts. Near the field house, there was a bathroom, and in between the two doors, was a section the Tennis players used to get out of the wind on windy days. "Okay....Let me just show you...." Lisa said. She rolled up her sleeves, showing them the countless scars on her arm. she lifted up the back of her shirt, showing them the bruises her father had inflicted on her. "I got all of these from--" she was cut off when she noticed the principal standing behind her. "Let's go back to school, guys." The principal said casually, though there was nothing casual about it.
The group was accused of skipping school, but the principal believed them they were just getting some sunshine before going to the convinience store near the school. "What were you saying?" David asked her. "Oh, I went hiking last weekend, and I took a tumble and a few bruises and scrapes. But, I'm okay...." She lied. David sensed that she was lying, but didn't say anything.
Soon, school was over. All of the students flooded out of the doors, waiting for their rides home. Lisa stood, waiting for her ride. "Lisa!! Wait....Please..." David gasped. Lisa turned. "What?" she asked. "i need to talk....to you about...Those bruises and scars...." said David. Lisa felt herself drenched in a cold sweat. Had he figured it out? "Lisa!! Get in the car!!" a voice boomed. Her father. "Sorry....Gotta go..." she sighed. She walked to the car, and turned to look at David. He was turning his head away, as if he didn't even want to give her a look of disappointment. She felt tears in her eyes, as the car pulled out of the parking lot.
Late that night, Lisa found herself with her good friend, the razor. She thought about today--her friends, her teachers, the principal, her family, and how they all must hate her now. She pulled the razor across her arm once again, letting the crimson liquid flow. She felt tears in her eyes for the second time today. she then thought how great it would be to get away from it all. She took the razor in her hand once more, shakily. She took the razor close to her neck, and dragged it across quickly. she felt herself bleeding, and felt daint. She wanted the pain to stop, but it wouldn't. She wished she could tell everyone she loved them, and that it was an accident. But the knoweledge that her own death would be her fault made her begin to cry. She couldn't talk, because the razor had damaged her vocal chords. She felt herself fall back, but never felt herself hit the ground.
David called later that night, asking for Lisa. Her mom took the phone to her room, and discovered her daughter.....
Lisa....was no longer in the world of the living. David felt so bad, that he hadn't done something, that he couldn't stop her, that he never spoke again. Heather and Ashley cried their eyes out at her funeral. Her father made the biggest change of all, this one for the better. He started going to alcoholism rehab, for his daughter.
I started writing this last night, and I reread it, and I was like 'This is so sad, I can't believe I wrote that! I'm not a depressing person!!'. This story, I guess was meant to raise awareness of people who SI or are suicidal. If you know someone like that, don't let them stay that way. Get them help. Because you never know what might happen.
The girl was thrown against the wall. Her whole body felt sore now. The girl was no older than thirteen, with fair brown hair, and was about 5' 2". "Stupid girl...Wish you'd....Never been born...." the tower of a man before her roared. Her father was in one of his drunken rages, and was taking his frustrations out on his poor daughter. The daughter in questions name was Lisa.
"Dad....Please, stop....." she pleaded. For once in his worthless life, he actually took pity on her. "Fine....Go to bed, damned girl...." je said, sluggishly. Lisa got up from her beating, and quietly went down the hall. She went to the last room of the hall, and shut the door, locking it. The girl went to her closet, and rummaged through the clothes on the floor. She pulled out her most prized posession--a razor. Pulling the silver razor across her skin, she thought about all the horrible things that had happened that day, while the crimson tears poured from her wrist.
Then the phone rang.. She put the razor back under her pile of clothes, and grabbed the phone off her shelf (as her father was in no condition to talk on the phone). "Hello?" she answered.
"Lisa?" a male voice inquired.
"Yes, who is this?" Lisa replied.
"You should know by now!" the male voice replied back.
"Shut up, David...." Lisa giggled. She remembered her arm was still bleeding, and needed to make it stop. "Uh...sorry to cut the conversation short, but my dad needs me to help him with something. Bye." Then, she hung up.
David was one of her best friends, along with Ashley and Heather, two girls who had know Lisa since kindergarten. None of them knew that Lisa self-injured, or her dad abused her. Lisa contemplated this for a moment, as she aplied a wet rag on her wrist to stop the bleeding. "Someone should know....I should tell somebody....". The bleeding on her wrist had stopped, and she decided she'd go to bed. She laid down on her bed, and almost instantly fell asleep.
The next day at school was rather hectic. Everyone seemed to be having a horrible day. "Three tests, five pages of homework, and a report, due by tommorow." David rambled. He did that sometimes, especially when he was trying to make a point. But he would ver actually GEt to the point he was trying to make. Everyone had pretty much learned to tune hime out. Lisa was thinking about what she was going to do this afternoon. Probably go to the mall, do homework, and stay as far out of her father's way as possible. "Guys....Can we talk during lunch...?" Lisa suddenly heard herself asking. Immediately she wanted to take the words back. She didn't want to tell them. Not yet. "Sure!" everyone replied in unison. They all went their seperate ways for the last period before lunch, leaving Lisa standing alone in the hallway. She sighed. She didn't want lunch to come.
Unfortunately for Lisa, lunch came rather quickly. At least, it felt that way. Lisa arrived at the usual table the group sat at, and set her bag down. David, Ashley, and Heather all arrived shortly after. "So, what'd you want to talk to us about?" Heather took the lead. "Can we....Not do it here?" Lisa asked, sheepishly. The group eyed each other for a second, before Heather and Ashley took Lisa by the arm outside. The group went out to the Tennis courts. Near the field house, there was a bathroom, and in between the two doors, was a section the Tennis players used to get out of the wind on windy days. "Okay....Let me just show you...." Lisa said. She rolled up her sleeves, showing them the countless scars on her arm. she lifted up the back of her shirt, showing them the bruises her father had inflicted on her. "I got all of these from--" she was cut off when she noticed the principal standing behind her. "Let's go back to school, guys." The principal said casually, though there was nothing casual about it.
The group was accused of skipping school, but the principal believed them they were just getting some sunshine before going to the convinience store near the school. "What were you saying?" David asked her. "Oh, I went hiking last weekend, and I took a tumble and a few bruises and scrapes. But, I'm okay...." She lied. David sensed that she was lying, but didn't say anything.
Soon, school was over. All of the students flooded out of the doors, waiting for their rides home. Lisa stood, waiting for her ride. "Lisa!! Wait....Please..." David gasped. Lisa turned. "What?" she asked. "i need to talk....to you about...Those bruises and scars...." said David. Lisa felt herself drenched in a cold sweat. Had he figured it out? "Lisa!! Get in the car!!" a voice boomed. Her father. "Sorry....Gotta go..." she sighed. She walked to the car, and turned to look at David. He was turning his head away, as if he didn't even want to give her a look of disappointment. She felt tears in her eyes, as the car pulled out of the parking lot.
Late that night, Lisa found herself with her good friend, the razor. She thought about today--her friends, her teachers, the principal, her family, and how they all must hate her now. She pulled the razor across her arm once again, letting the crimson liquid flow. She felt tears in her eyes for the second time today. she then thought how great it would be to get away from it all. She took the razor in her hand once more, shakily. She took the razor close to her neck, and dragged it across quickly. she felt herself bleeding, and felt daint. She wanted the pain to stop, but it wouldn't. She wished she could tell everyone she loved them, and that it was an accident. But the knoweledge that her own death would be her fault made her begin to cry. She couldn't talk, because the razor had damaged her vocal chords. She felt herself fall back, but never felt herself hit the ground.
David called later that night, asking for Lisa. Her mom took the phone to her room, and discovered her daughter.....
Lisa....was no longer in the world of the living. David felt so bad, that he hadn't done something, that he couldn't stop her, that he never spoke again. Heather and Ashley cried their eyes out at her funeral. Her father made the biggest change of all, this one for the better. He started going to alcoholism rehab, for his daughter.
I started writing this last night, and I reread it, and I was like 'This is so sad, I can't believe I wrote that! I'm not a depressing person!!'. This story, I guess was meant to raise awareness of people who SI or are suicidal. If you know someone like that, don't let them stay that way. Get them help. Because you never know what might happen.