Under Her Sleeves
Tomorrow's just another day.
This story was first posted on my medium.
She sat at the window, staring past her own reflection in the glass, watching every shadow that walked by. Her friends promised they’d come over, and yet she didn’t catch a single glimpse of them in the hour she spent there. The sparkle in her eyes faded as the clock on her nightstand kept ticking away, leaving a small echo behind every second. She wanted to keep waiting just a little longer, but deep down she knew that feeling well enough. It wasn’t the first time, after all. No one was going to show up — they never do. They always just come up to her bench the next day at school, armed with some cheap, made-up excuse, knowing she’ll just accept it. It’s not like she has much of a choice when no one else gives her the time of day.
Ever since she started high school, none of the other kids tried talking to her much. For them, she was just the weird girl in class who always had her head buried in a notebook. So, they gave her space. Even though she never asked for it.
It wasn’t long before she finally stepped away from the window, closing the curtains. Then sat on the cold wooden floor, leaning against the bed. Her eyes drifted through the darkness of the room, searching for something that might fill the hole she felt inside her heart.
She turned on the TV and opened some snacks, but her mind couldn’t focus on any of the channels as she kept scrolling through them. It was nothing more than something for her to do while lost in her own head. She couldn’t finish any of the snacks either. Ate a few chips and took a bite of a chocolate bar, then threw them back on the desk. Nothing felt interesting enough to snap her out of that state. That’s when she glanced at her phone on the nightstand, thinking she might’ve missed a message, but there was nothing for her to miss. So, her eyes dropped lower, and her hand reached under it, grabbing the two cigarettes she’d stolen from her mother’s purse and a beat-up box of matches. She was never big on smoking until the girls made her smoke with them once after school. It wasn’t what she wanted, but that’s what it took for her to feel included.
She put one cigarette in her mouth, holding it between her teeth, then sparked the match a few times until she got it right. As she brought the fire closer, she thought of how everyone walked by her in the hallway, of the only girls who’d ever talked to her, and of her mother, who left her in that empty house by herself every night. She was sick of it all. Yet she knew she didn’t have the voice to speak up.
After a few puffs, she started coughing and rushed to the window. Her eyes watered. She stuck her head outside, gasping for air. For a moment she thought of throwing it as far as she could but figured that choking on smoke was better than opening that drawer again.
The smoke left a scratchy feeling in her throat. She hated it. She tried washing it down with the juice she’d bought earlier. I’m just not used to it, she thought. Next one’s gonna be easier. But it made no difference. Smoke would never be enough to fill the hole inside her heart.
As she sat in the same spot again, trying to catch her breath, the phone buzzed on the nightstand. Her chest tightened, and her eyes rushed toward it without thinking. She hoped she was wrong, hoped they’d just tell her they were late. But her excitement faded quickly. It was just a photo, a new post one of them made. She stared at it. The three of them smiled together while she sat alone in that dark, empty room. That all-too-familiar feeling started seeping into her as she threw the phone on the bed. She wrapped her arms around her knees and let her head fall onto them. Her jaw tightened, and her nails dug into her arms, leaving small crescent marks on her skin. She hated them for leaving her out again, for smiling so brightly when she wasn’t around. But most of all, she hated herself for daring to hope it would end any other way.
I can’t be that terrible to have around. Her eyes fixed on the scars etched into her arm. It’s not fair… Why do I always have to be the one who’s left out? I did my best to go along with whatever they wanted. Let them push me around like an idiot. And for what? It’s not like anyone gives a damn about me.
She picked up the cigarette sitting next to her, thinking it might calm her down. But as she kept trying to light the match, her eyes drifted toward the nightstand, settling on the bottom drawer. That’s right…
Her thin fingers wrapped around the cold metal handle. She pulled it open, letting the cigarette slip from her lips. Then without a second thought, she picked up the razor, holding it tight between her fingers and buried it deep inside her wrist. She slowly dragged it through her skin, watching how blood bubbled to the surface as it ripped open. One cut, two cuts, three… She wouldn’t stop. All the tears she’s been holding in started flowing down her cheeks, splattering on the ground along with the drops of blood dripping from her arms.
It was quiet, but that didn’t hurt anymore. She was done waiting, done being that weird girl in class. None of it mattered, even if it only lasted a few brief moments until the razor slipped from her hand as she was slashing away at the pent-up feelings hiding in her heart.
And it was all over. She lay there on one side, her mind empty, watching how blood trickled down her arm, making its way toward the floor. Her tears all but dried up, and her fingertips were turning numb.
Maybe tomorrow’s gonna be different, she thought as her eyelids grew heavy.
Tomorrow was just Monday though.
Thanks for reading to the end.
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