.And Scars Run Deeper

She locked the bathroom door silently behind her before she walked over to the sink. She looked into the oval mirror, and shrank back as she saw her reflection. Her tears had left black tracks down her face where they had smudged her mascara. Her eyes stared out blankly from her face, void of any of the emotion that was boiling around inside her head. She was shocked by the way she looked. Her dishevelled hair hung untidily over her face, sticking to her cheeks where the tears were still wet. Her eyes were rimmed in red rings and were bloodshot "God how long have I been crying?" she asked herself, running her hand down her face, the black trails of mascara smudging beneath her fingers. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, as she remembered her best friend again, how they had done each other's make-up for the school dance only a few weeks before. She would never again have that chance, she was gone now, and she wasn't coming back. The tears falling from her cheeks left a black residue where her make-up stuck to the white sink, reminding her of the blood they had shed there, together, two girls against the world. The tears flowed freer as she remembered all the promises that they had made, about how this was the last one, about how they would stop and help each other through everything. "Yeah right, promises, promises are made to be broken," she spat bitterly into the sink, "Damn you Jen, damn you!" she cried before she sank to her knees, her hands clutching the sink as she broke down. "Damn you!"
"Why'd you do it Jen? Why? Why did you have to go? You're all that I have Jen, Why? Dammit Why?" her fists pounded at the sink in anger as she struggled to accept the passing of her friend. "Why Jen WHY! What about all of those promises, all those things we planned to do, WHY!!! JEN, WHY!!!" she stroked the white scars on her forearm, remembering each promise clearly, remembering every single time that they had bled for their freedom. "Why'd you go Jen? Why'd you have to go? I need you Jen, I need you." Sobs began to choke her words and she knelt there by the sink, crying the tears that she had kept inside for so long. "Jen," she croaked quietly, "Jen please, please come back." She staggered back to her feet, hauling herself up by the sink. Her smudged mascara had painted black half-moons underneath her eyes, themselves watery and bloodshot. "One more time for the road Jen. One more time."
With trembling hands she reached up to the medicine cabinet beside the sink and took out one of her father's razorblades. She stared downwards as she held the blade above her right forearm, above the evidence of previous cuts. Her hand was trembling so badly that she was afraid that the blade would slip and she'd be rejoining her friend sooner than she thought. A tear tumbled down her face, tracing the contour of her jaw and chin before it fell onto her arm below the blade. She started, "Do I really want to do this?" she asked herself, doubt beginning to gnaw in her mind, "Do I really want to surrender myself to the same thing that took my best friend?" With the seeds of doubt sown in her mind, her hands began to tremble more violently, the blade briefly brushed against the skin of her arm, and she was ashamed when a small tremble of delight scurried up her spine. "Oh God what am I doing?" she asked herself again as the blade once again drew closer to her arm, it was now so close that she could almost feel the cold steel lying against her skin.
The edge of the blade pricked her arm and she pulled it away quickly, looking down to watch a small crimson bead appear, vivid against her pale flesh. It swelled slowly until the little bubble that it appeared to be trapped in burst and it trickled down her arm, falling into the sink to mingle with the mascara and tears. A small flash of comfort flowed through her as she watched the small bead of blood make it's way down the wall of the sink, twisting and turning around the drops of water and make-up. "No I don't want to do this, not anymore, it's caused me enough pain." She sounded resolute but when she went to dump the razorblade she found that she could hardly let it out of her sight, never mind throw it away. She ran her finger along the edge of the blade, unconsciously marvelling at its seeming perfection, at how it seemed to reach out and offer her endless peace and comfort. She recoiled at this thought, shrinking back from the sink. "What's wrong with me, why can't I stop it," her voice was beginning to shake, "What's wrong with me." She forced herself to stop as she found herself absently drifting back to the sink, raising the blade to he arm as she went, "No I don't want to do this." The urge to run the blade across her arm and feel it cut away all of her pain grew to an almost unbearable level. She sank down against the wall opposite the sink, and wrapped her arms around herself, staring at the blade held loosely by her shoulder.
Her tears returned again as she sat helplessly afraid against the wall of the bathroom, "Jen, I miss.I miss you, why'd 'd you ?" She still couldn't take her eyes from the blade. From where she sat the light glinted wickedly off the blade and along with the small stain of blood it looked oddly sinister. She raised her hand and made as if to throw it away, but as she swung her arm downwards, her fingers clutched it tightly. She felt the blade sharp against the skin of her fingers, pressing tightly against her. The urge to squeeze the blade harder and feel it bite into her fingers grew to fever pitch. She tried to release it, but when she did she only felt her fingers tighten around it and the blade only called out to her louder. "How did it get to this?" She asked herself as she felt the blade sinking into her fingers. The skin hadn't yet been pierced but she could feel the sharp edge, slowly but surely making its way through the skin on her finger. "Oh God, I have to stop this." Her panic was beginning to grow and she felt her lungs beginning to constrict under the crushing embrace of her fear, a fear that was mingled with pure and utter longing. "I don't want to do this, come on Sarah, just let go, just drop it and run," she urged herself, her voice unsteady, "Just let go, just let go." But she couldn't, she was petrified, she sat against the way, her entire body trembling, racked in terror. "." she whispered over and over again, the loss of her friend tearing her apart, more than her contradictory feelings of longing and hatred. She sat rocking back and forth, her eyes closed, the razor grasped loosely in her hand, the blade still pressing against her fingers.
She didn't know how long she had been sitting there, but when she finally opened her eyes again, she could hear voices coming from outside the door. "Honey you don't think she's gone and done anything do you? You know how much Jennifer meant to her, she took the news really badly earlier." "Of course not dear, she just needs a bit of time alone, that's all," came her father's voice trying to reassure her mother. She could hear the fear in both their voices, despite her father's attempts to be reassuring, and cursed herself for it. "You're right I suppose honey," her mother knocked on the door, "Sarah dear, are you okay in there?" Sarah struggled to her feet, surprised when she saw the razorblade lying on the floor. She briefly considered picking it up and throwing it into the wastebasket under the sink, but quickly dismissed the idea, It had caused her enough trouble. "Yeah mom, I'm fine I'll be right out. I think I fell asleep or something." "Okay we'll be in the kitchen when you're ready. We got in some Chinese, we thought that it might cheer you up a bit," her mother called back. "That's if it doesn't make you fat first," her father chimed in cheerfully, she heard the thud of her mom's elbow against his chest, "Mark, she's bad enough as it is, come on, you can go set the table."
Sarah grinned to herself inside the bathroom. She caught another glance of herself in the mirror, and was glad to see that the life had returned to her eyes. Her grin widened again, as she saw the mess her face was in, the mascara streaks that stretched from her eyes the whole way down under her chin. She laughed and she felt the shadow lift itself from her shoulders. After washing her face, she walked back over to where the razorblade lay on the ground. She picked it up and surveyed it carefully, a frown of disbelief spreading across her forehead, "This little thing gave me all that trouble," she whispered to herself, "Amazing." She turned and tossed it carelessly into the wastebasket as she headed out the door. "Who would have guessed," she smiled, "Hey Jen I'm going to be alright," she said, her eyes looking upwards as she headed into the kitchen, "I'm going to be alright." "What's that dear? Are you talking to yourself now? Are you sure you're okay?" her father pitched in again, "Oww." Sarah entered the room just in time to see her mother give him a sharp elbow to the ribs. She smiled, "Yeah I'm going to be okay."
Keith O' Sullivan
3-11-04