Truth of Dark Pasts, Serena Wood [read my book .txt] 📗

food again, taking small nibbles. After an hour or so I’ve finished off the soup and I’m stuck staring at the open laptop again. I must stare at it for at least 30 minutes before I stupidly decide to pick it back up. At first I try to ignore all of the hateful comments, only looking at posts from family members or more of those “friendly” people. But after a while, all I can focus on is comment after comment by the same people who started all of this. I end up staring at that one comment on Chloe’s post for quite a while. “You’re pathetic, seriously, kill yourself.”

I just stare at those words for what feels like forever, wondering why they wrote them. I’ve never done anything to anyone, especially not this random person, that would deem worthy of saying something like that. As far as I know I don’t think anyone would ever deserve such a statement. If anyone were to receive them, I would think it to be some horrible criminal, not someone like me.

I shut the laptop abruptly and toss it back down on the dresser. I wander around the house for a bit, not sure what to do now. But for a while I just take advantage that mom’s not here to stop me from stretching my legs. That soon gets boring though so I wander back up to my room. I pick up my phone, almost forgetting for a second that I have no one to talk to. I lay down on my bed and stare up at the phone, going through my messages. I realize I hadn’t picked this thing up since summer, all of the goofy messages from River still there. I smile at them for a moment, remembering how nice things use to be. But that moment only lasts so long before I have to come back to the present. I delete all of my messages sadly and set the phone down on the dresser by the laptop.

Sighing with a sense of defeat, I get up again; Pain shooting through me as I should have expected. I walk back downstairs and get a drink before looking at the clock, it’s already 6:30 pm. I should have taken a shower a while ago.

The actual cleaning part of the shower is relatively short, but nearly an hour after I get in, I’m still here. I watch the water fall down, sliver around my fingers, and then pool at my feet. All the while my thoughts race and eventually I find myself sitting down. I turn the water back to the faucet and plug the bathtub; turning my shower into a bath. Maybe this is what I needed all week, a soothing bath to relax my thoughts. Of course I’m wrong though, the warm water does little to quiet my noisy thoughts.

I sit in silence and the thoughts only get louder. Most of them link back to River in some way, but soon enough they start to drift towards her ‘friends’. The week is over with and still my whole body hurts from their kicks, my head still aches from Chloe’s punches. All I can do is wonder why River is friends with the kind of people that would relentlessly beat up someone she use to call her best friend.

Soon enough I start to wonder if I was ever her friend in the first place, perhaps she was just my friend out of pity. Otherwise she wouldn’t so easily throw me away. Thoughts like that just keep pouring in and before I can catch myself I’m crying, nearly hysterical. Over the years I find that I get like this from time to time, most of the time I can manage to at least seem emotionless about things but other times breaking down and crying seems unavoidable. And I know what usually happens after this moment.

I rub at my arm involuntarily, looking down at the tiny scars that stain my skin like ink on paper. I rub my thumb across the scars, I don’t remember the first time I did it; It was a blur, much like every time after and probably much like this time will become.

I get out of the bath tub finally, trying to push the thoughts aside. I dry off and put on my clothes. But after that I can’t seem to find the will to move. I stare at the floor for a minute before looking up at the mirror that hangs over the sink. The girl on the other side is pale and beaten. Most of the time I can’t stand the girl I have to look back at. With her brown stale hair, her gray eyes, and the face and body that far more people have picked on than complimented; The girl on the other side of the mirror is nothing special. At times it seems like the girl on this side of the mirror is nothing to anyone.

Angrily, I walk away from the image and wander into the kitchen. I find myself staring out the window, the sun is already down being as it’s winter. I stare at the darkness, lost in thought again. The dark scares me. As childish as that sounds it’s true.

Things lurk in the dark at night, when I’m laying in my bed. Memories lurk there, good and bad, followed by tormented thoughts and unspoken words. Every fear driven thing of the universe lingers in the dark and it terrifies me. But right now it only taunts me.

You’re pathetic I can’t tell if it’s just a reminder of the words from earlier or my own thoughts starting to believe I truly am pathetic. Seriously, kill yourself. This time I’m sure the voice is more of my own thought and not just a reiteration of earlier.

I look down at my arm again, turning it over to see the small scars. They were always small, I could never cut myself deep enough to make a noticeably large gash. I was always too scared, cowardly as I told myself. Maybe this time I can actually go through with it.

Chapter 5 - "Into Another Mind"

 

☯River☯

When I’d decided to push Ellie out of my life it had been in her best interest. I hadn’t planned on her becoming my enemy of sorts but I went with it in hopes she would be safe if she wasn’t around me. But what I had in mind isn’t at all how things have gone and now she’s home in bed because my new set of fake friends beat her to a pulp. I knew when I befriended them that they had… hateful tendencies to say the least but I went with it, assuming that the worse people I hung out with the less Ellie would be around me.

I thought it was better that way and it would have been if I hadn’t been as stupid as to pick people that would bully and harm her. The worst part is that I had even participated in some of the bullying. Why I would go to such lengths I’ll never know. I’m such an idiot for thinking that nothing would come from playing along with their games and now they’ve hurt Ellie and it’s all my fault. And she knows it. That look she gave me in the hospital nearly tour me in two. She knew I had become her bully when I was suppose to be her friend. Even if I couldn’t be just her friend, I should’ve never became what I am now. God knows the girl never deserved any of this. This is exactly what I was trying to prevent : pain.

“What are you still doing here?” My sister’s voice rings out from the other side of the couch and it brings me out of my thoughts. “What  are you talking about, Zoey?” I mumble, flipping through the channels on the tv. “You know what I’m talking about. I heard what happened, it’s been a week. You need to go apologize already.” she hops over the couch to steal the remote and just this once, I don’t bother to steal it back. “Um… Again, what are you talking about?” she looks away from the tv to glare at me. “I know you had a part in what happened to El. I’m not an idiot.”

Her words stun me into silence so she continues, “Go over there and apologize, you asshole.” She shoves me off the couch and after a minute I follow her little order. I’m not one to listen to anyone and certainly not my sister, but she’s right. I need to go talk to Ellie.

I grab my shoes and make my way over to The House of Stone as we use to call it when we were younger. The stupid things kids come up with. If only we could stay that innocent.

Only ten minutes later I find myself approaching the house, walking up their driveway. I walk nervously up the porch and to the door. I prepare to knock when I notice something huddled on the floor; past the living room and in the corner of the kitchen.

It’s obvious almost instantly that it’s Ellie’s figure huddled there. Quickly I start to worry that she fell or furthered her injuries somehow. “Ellie?” I call out to see if she’ll answer, if it’s just a broken leg or something she would look up or answer back, right? After all she is sitting on the floor and not laying there so I at least know she’s still conscience. But she doesn’t move or even look up at me.

She just keeps staring down at her arm, holding it as if it’s broken. I take a closer look, peering through the window’s curtains and instantly I realize she’s not holding her arm. She’s holding a knife to it and she’s… “Ellie!” her name forces itself out of my mouth and I act on instinct; swinging the door open and rushing to her. I stop in the doorway to the kitchen because she stops mid action to look up at me, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“River?” she looks at me with so much confusion, as if I’m not really there and she’s just imagining it. “Ellie… “ I move closer and crouch down infront of her before finishing my sentence “Give me the knife.” at that something clicks in her mind. Like she’s suddenly convinced that I am a figment of her imagination and she’s free to go on as she had before I got there.  She bolts to her feet and rushes to the bathroom, slamming the door shut before I can reach her.

“Ellie open the door!” I twist the door knob only to find that it’s locked. In a panic I hit the door and look around like a wild animal in a trap. the keys, they keep the keys in the middle draw. the thought comes to life and I rush back to the kitchen and rummage through the middle draw by the stove until I find the set of house keys.

I manage to get the door open but by the time I get there, two more fresh cuts line her arms. She stops the knife