Priceless (A MIKA Fanfic) (Remake)

Chapter 11

(Trigger warning - self harm.)

When I got home from school that day, I rushed upstairs to my bedroom and shut the door behind me. I flopped onto my bed, exhausted by the events of the day, and I started sobbing uncontrollably into my pillow. I hated myself so much, and I was so sick of being the girl who never speaks. I felt like I needed to punish myself for being so pathetic.

I had always said that I would never turn to self harm, no matter how hard things got. But today was too much for me.

I sat up and opened the bottom drawer of my bedside cabinet before taking out a small plastic box. I had never cut myself before, but I kept a few blades just in case. I took it with me to the bathroom and locked the door, then I sat down on the side of the bath. I rolled up the sleeve of my black school blazer, and I chose a blade from the box.

I shakily drew a line across my wrist with it, and then I watched as blood began to appear at the surface of the cut. It stung, but for some reason it helped and made me feel calmer. Then I made two more cuts, and I bled even more. The crimson liquid was dripping down my arm, and it looked awful. I was definitely going to have some horrible scars when it healed.

"What have I done to myself?" I whispered as I stared at my wrist.

I went over to the sink and turned the tap on, and I attempted to clean the cuts. Then I reached for the toilet roll, and I wrapped a few wads around my wrist as a bandage. Hopefully it wouldn't bleed through it.

Then I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the bathroom mirror, and I realised how ugly I actually was. Jade and Emily were right. I looked awful. I wished I was pretty like the other girls at school. They all looked like models, and I looked terrible compared to them. No wonder they made fun of me.

Then I picked the blade up from the side of the bath. I washed it in the sink, and then I placed it in the box. I carried the box back to my bedroom, and put it away in my bedside cabinet. I sat down on my bed and thought about what I had just done. I regretted it already. My wrist stung and I knew that I would have to try and hide my scars until they faded.

How was I going to tell Mica about this? He would probably hate me if he knew what I had done to myself, and he would be so disappointed in me. And I didn't want that.

I decided not to tell him. I was pretty sure that I bothered him with my problems enough already, and I didn't want to worry him any more.

And I didn't want to hurt him, because I loved him too much.