Ameina’s POV

Who does he think he is? He can’t just go on my porch begging for another chance. No, I’m not going to forgive him. I never will. He’s wasted so many chances.


I was still standing inside, staring at the door. I opened the curtain next to the door gently and looked outside the window to check if Niall was still there.


I couldn’t see anything, so I looked a little closer to the right to the direction of the door and where Niall was standing. I caught sight of him still on his knees. I saw his eyes getting teary, and a tear flowed down, but he wiped it away before it reached his cheek.


I thought I saw him look to my direction and notice me, but before he could get a proper look I closed the curtain and ran upstairs to my room.


Tears streamed down my cheeks. I punched my pillow a few times and laid down on my bed. I sighed. Does this really have to happen to me? And why me?


Nothing makes me feel better than my blade.
"Why?" I remember Niall asked when he found out about my cuts.
Because it makes me feel better.
Because it brings me down.
Because it punishes me.
For not being good enough.
For being a stupid person.
Making me uglier than I already am.
Crisscrossing my body so I'll never look normal again.
I cut because I'm stupid.
I cut because I'm ugly.
I cut because I'm not worth it.
I cut because I don't care.
I cut because I do care.
It erases the pain.
It brings the pain out.
It makes me forget.
It becomes a permanent reminder.
Of my ignorance.
Of my mistakes.
Of my weakness.
Not my strength.
I do it because it’s bad for me and I don't deserve any better.
I do it because I'm too weak to just end it all, right there on the spot…


I decided to write down my feelings about this on paper or something, see how it ends up. I’ll keep it somewhere safe where even Anesha won’t find it.


I grabbed my pen, sat on my desk, took a piece of paper and began to write. I guess I should write this like I’m talking to Niall or something. Things that I would say to him, but not brave enough to say it.


I'm ashamed of who I am and what I have become.
These scars that are on my arms and thighs are just markings to hide the pain inside.
No one seems to understand this. I don’t think even you do, though you did it to yourself before. But you said that was about two years ago. You have recovered. Unlike me…
I’m afraid that you may be one of the many who don't understand.
I thought, perhaps, you would.
I guess I was wrong, as I usually am.

And I don't understand. I thought you'd accept that these scars are there.
They aren't vanishing anytime soon.

Is it that they disgust you?
Will my scars make you break down?
Or will they make you cringe and puke?

I wanted to get better for you.
I wanted to promise you that no new scars will appear.
But after that…
I don't know.

The razor lures me.
Telling me all of my thoughts are true.
Longing for my skin and within it, my blood.
It hurt so badly that you wouldn't look.

I just wanted to disappear.
I still do.


I re-read everything I wrote and crumpled it into a small paper ball, tossing it to my little trash can. No one can ever see that. Ever.


Anesha’s POV


I always thought my sister was hiding something from me. But I never thought she would do self-harm. I never knew she would feel that much pain.


She cuts. But I know she never cuts too deep, never enough to die. But enough to feel the pain. Enough to feel the scream inside.


Niall probably knows. I know now, too. We both know her little secret. Scars… scars are little. When she cuts, the surface heals. Her heart doesn’t. Ameina is fragile and hopeless. Nobody should break her heart, as she feels so much pain inside already.


You may think, perhaps, she cuts skin? Scars are visible, pain to show the world. And people don’t realize, do they? Self-harm cuts deeper.


When people asked if she was okay, she only ever told them, "Yes, I'm fine," or other words like that. The words were enough to fill their pretend curiosity and they never asked any more questions because that was how it was supposed to be.


"I'm fine," was her usual answer to questions like that and everyone believed it because it was too awkward to look for the truth.


For them, to believe the lie was easier because if something was wrong and they were to know about it, then they would feel forced to ask more questions, and pretend to care for longer, and no one wanted to go through the struggle and Ameina didn't want to be a burden anyway.


No, that wasn't how it was supposed to work. "How are you?" and "Are you okay?" were often asked to Ameina. To answer anything but "Good," or "I'm fine," was to be seeking attention and no one wanted to deal with that. No one really cared that much.


But Ameina’s case is even more dramatic. She would nervously tug her sleeves down around her thumbs and hold them there, and maybe she got some stares for wearing long sleeves in the summer, but she'd have gotten far more stares if her arms were not covered.


So she went on like that, hiding her skin for the sake of other’s comfort and so no one would see her scars, while she still went through all the hurting. It was the pain of being ignored, the pain of being a social outcast with no friends, the pain of having her please being unanswered.Those were the causes of all the marks on her skin.

Notes

I personally think this chapter is quite emotional haha. But I hoped you liked it! xx