Broken and Bleeding

Chapter 1:

Myranda

I could feel the bodies pressing in around me. I could feel their mass conforming to my every move. My every twitch was reciprocated by the mountain of flesh threatening to swallow me up. Then the heat hit me. It was like an immense blanket surrounding me, strangling me, and trying smother me with its heat.

I could feel the vomit roiling up out of my stomach. I attempted to fight back the nausea, but couldn't contain my revulsion for the massive gathering around me. My thoughts began swirling around my head like a swarm of angry bees. My vision began to falter and darken. I closed my eyes, covered my face, and began to mutter to myself, “Everywhere get it off. Make it stop. He won't just leave. He's following me. He's going to do it again. Make it stop. He's coming I know it. Too many people...”

I felt the vomit getting ever nearer to the threshold of my mouth. I began to mumble louder and faster. I couldn't stop myself. Weight pressed in around me from every direction. Heat came in waves taking my knees out from under me. I crumpled onto the ground and felt the mass surrounding me getting heavier and more powerful. Breathing became laborious and forced, each and every breath taking more effort than the last.

Somehow amongst all the faces and bodies I felt cold, alone, and entirely helpless. The first of the bile finally hit my taste buds and I made a gasping sound as the wall of liquid came rushing out all over my face and clothes.

Suddenly my eyes burst open, and I realized it was a dream. I sighed with relief, but as I looked down I realized that there was vomit all down my brand new shirt and jeans. I groaned, and pulled myself off the couch. I was disgusted at myself. I had done it again. It had been 6 months now and I had done the same thing every night up until last night. I had thought I was over it by now, but I almost began to cry at the realization that I was wrong.

Every night I collapsed fully clothed on the bed. Every time I had the same dream. Every morning I woke up crying or screaming or vomiting. I was scared it would take up my whole life. I couldn't stop it. I felt the way I had in the dream: surrounded everywhere I turned, but at the same time alone. Completely lost and alone without any chance of ever being found.

Suddenly I heard a crash coming from my left side. I watched with uninterested eyes as the Medusa-like creature emerged from the doorway. The creature began to shriek like a banshee, moving its mouth up and down rapidly, trying to communicate who knows what to me. I ignored it completely as I rose from the couch to go clean up in the bathroom.

I cursed my mother as I made my way to the bathroom. It was always the same thing, “Myranda, we're going to be late hurry up!”, or “Myranda don't talk back to me! Just quit being lazy and get your chores done!” I was starting to get tired of it.

But my anger quickly cooled, and was soon replaced by the numb nothingness that had become my life. My face was free of emotion as I entered the bathroom and began to brush my hair. Sure enough my mother followed close behind and started ripping the curlers out of her wild hair. She began her screeching anew. “Myranda! How long are you gonna keep this up!? You've already ruined my couch, so can you please stop now!? Seriously! And do you have to wake up a half hour before you're supposed to be at school!?”

“Mom go away! Leave me alone! Just let me brush my hair so I'm not late okay?!” I slammed the door in her face and put down my brush. I looked down at the sink and turned on the water. I started to wash my hands, and I was soon lost in my memories again.

He was the best person I knew. He was kind and loving and handsome. Everyone loved him except me. Even after everything he had done to me I still couldn't help but feel like a monster for breaking up with him. If he was so much better than me and I rejected him what did that make me? A monster. Evil. Hardly worthy of the gift of life. He was creation at its very best, and he knew how horrible I was. That's why he did what he did. Not because he's evil like I sometimes fantasized, but because he was so good. He condemned me, so who am I, an evil destructive fool, to argue? I don't deserve to live.

I looked down at my hands. They were completely covered in blood. The steam rose from the sink, and the water continued to flow down the drain, taking my blood with it. Somewhere in the back of my mind I realized that I hadn't turned on the cold water. The straight hot water from my tap could get over 175 degrees Fahrenheit. Something told me I should be in pain. A lot of pain. But I didn't feel anything. All I felt was the pain in my head from remembering him.

My mother banged on the door and yelled at me to hurry up. After I didn't respond she threw the door open and saw me standing over the sink. She immediately threw her hands over her mouth and ran back out of the bathroom. All the way out she was trying to yell profanities, but her hands muffled the sound.

My eyes went back to my hands, and I watched as they turned redder and redder from the heat and blood. My eyes looked for the source of the blood, and immediately found it. Most of the blood was gushing from my wrists on either hands, but both hands were covered in deep gashes and cuts from my fingernails. The cuts were very deep especially on my wrists, where it went in a full half inch and made a full half circle ringing my wrist. I knew I should be very worried that I might not make it through this, but again I didn't care. I could still only feel the emotional pain.

I looked up at my face and saw it covered in sweat and blood. In my own eyes I could see the sparkle of madness that had no doubt caused this disaster. My light blond hair had the blood in it also. I finally felt something other than pain. Unfortunately it was only fleeting remorse that my hair was ruined for the day for sure. Just as soon as the feeling came it retreated again leaving me with my thoughts.

I looked back down at my hands and saw them frantically working the the wounds open further. I desperately willed them onward trying to find where the pain was. If I felt the pain from my body then perhaps the pain in my mind would cease, or at least wane in strength. More and more blood spilled from my vessels as I viciously tore through my own flesh. In my mind I tried with all my might to push my pain away enough to find the physical pain I so desperately needed. I finally found it.

I screamed louder than I thought was possible and fell back against the wall behind me. My left shoulder hit first and made a sickly popping noise. As my body swung to the left my forehead found a towel rack and I was put flat on my back. I looked down at my body and saw the puddle of blood that was growing across the floor and beginning to drip down the floor vent. For the second time that day my vision began to darken and my stomach to contract. I hadn't had breakfast yet, and all the acid I had in my stomach before was spent on my dream so I dry heaved.

It was just about then the paramedics arrived.