A/N: This is my first real story. It will be dark, but hopefully eventually uplifting. Though this is rated Teen I am basing that on the assumption that most teenagers today can handle rather heavy swearing. Therefore, if you have a problem with the F word I suggest you take a pass. It will not be prevelant but for effect it will be in the story. Please review, I am still learning to write properly and would appreciate any critique.
Words can't describe how I feel right now. This lack of emotion, this void of happiness and liveliness. Every motion is mechanical and slow, every expression is robotic and copied – nothing is real. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, this is no longer me. Hazel eyes were flat and lifeless, dark brown hair limp and stringy and skin whiter than new fallen snow. I was sick – mentally and physically. My eyelids fluttered closed as I backed against the tub, sliding down to the slate flooring. The floor was covered in towels, the door locked, and a switchblade sat beside me. I didn't want it to be this way; I didn't want to have to resort to the worst of it. I just couldn't do it anymore. I have given up. With slow, shaking hands I wrapped my fingers around the thin blade. Words formed on my lips and I pressed the blade against my forearm at the crook of my elbow, pulling it down towards my wrist in one swift notion.
The pain was extraordinary, the first real emotion I've felt in months. It exploded behind my eyes, black spots of oblivion taking over. The crimson source of my life poured from the open wound and I watched it with morbid fascination. I knew this was the end, I knew that with every moment I was losing some of myself. My vision began to blur, the scarlet blood spilling on to the towels below me. My grip was weak as I tried to slash at my other arm, cutting sideways and diagonally with tiny, shallow cuts. My eyes rolled back in my head and I slumped further to the ground. This couldn't keep going. The pain sliced through me with sharp intensity, dulling and numbing every part of my body as it went. The black spots continued to explode behind my eyes and I faintly heard a pounding from somewhere, I assumed it was my own heart struggling to continue.
"Ari, hurry up! I need to pee"
The voice snapped me from the pain induced haze, my eyes fluttering open and my vision clearing. It was the voice of my brother, my best friend if you will and I could hear his impatient steps outside the door. A garbled response bubbled to my lips and I glared at the white wood of the bathroom door. Stupidly, I had positioned myself so I was barely three feet from the door – just enough to get the door open and get out. At the time, this had been oversight but now I saw it as a terrible mistake. My blood had seeped through the towels and started to flow beneath the door. I hoped with my last shred of mental ability that he didn't notice, that Erik didn't notice.
"Oh my god…Jesus! Ari! Open the door! Fuck Ari! Open the fucking door! What did you do? Arianna what is all this blood?"
His voice was raised, angry and delirious, and I could vaguely see the door frame shaking as he shoved his full weight into it. It creaked and the lock loosened; the haze clouded my mind again but I stared at the lock curiously. Stupid old house with stupid hardware. My right arm had begun to clot, the blood congealing and forming an ugly scab in spots, my left arm still bleeding freely. I knew that I should have passed out by now, that the pain should be unbearable, but some part of my conscious mind was keeping me in the present. Infinity seemed to tick by as the door continued to rattle and I faintly heard my brother screaming for an ambulance. My hearing was going now – never a good sign. The once colourful floor was now swamped in crimson blood and I stared openly at the long gash on my arm. I could feel again – feel the numbness but instead of it being terrible I welcomed it. It spread through my body like wildfire and I could finally feel the last threads of consciousness begin to wane away. To quote one of my favourite bands: 'This is the end, this is dead.' As blackness began to consume my vision the bathroom door slammed open and two men in paramedic's uniforms rushed in. Faceless forms grappled at any part of my body as my eyes rolled back in my head, unconsciousness quickly becoming a very real possibility. With my last shred of consciousness I saw the auburn mopped head of my brother shove in between two of the faceless shapes, his calloused hands picking up my own and his words coming in a throaty gasp.
"Arianna O'Connor, listen to me and listen to me good. Hold on sweetheart, you're my baby sister and I love you. Please hold on. They're trying to help you, just hold on to my voice. I love you Ari, don't forget that. Breathe, hold on. Do as they say. Just ho-"
His words were cut off by a strangled sob and the hushed whispers of the paramedics, her vision finally fading to black and the dull thud of her heartbeat filling her ears.
The lines I wear around my wrist are there to prove that I exist
A/N 2: Just forgot to mention, the title is from a song by an incredible band called Tera Firma. If someone can guess who the end sentence and the 'this is the end, this is dead' is from...i'll give them a cookie. I also want tot say that I am not religious so I am sorry if I offended anyone with the references to God. Again, please review :D