The Villain of My Own Story

I started to self-harm back when I was fourteen. Junior high was rough and high school was looking even rougher. I was a complete social mess and it seemed I would always fall for the wrong guy. The first time started after the guy I liked at the time, and who I had thought liked me as well, completely rejected me at the end of the school year after using me to get him through classes and help him pass tests. I had given him answers to tests and homework because he made me feel special and I hated myself for being so stupid and weak.

It started out simply. A kitchen parry knife I’d gotten from some Pamper Chef thing my mother had dragged me to and an unhealthy dose of self-loathing were the beginning of my problem. But then I started to worry. What if people found out? They would hate me and think I’m a terrible person. I couldn’t go a day without hearing someone telling ‘emo jokes’ and bashing anyone who they thought MIGHT be cutting.

The shower became my sanctuary. Shaving my legs was a normal enough process. And all I had to do was occasionally press to hard, twitch, jerk the razor through my skin. The inside of my thighs looked like a battle ground where both sides had lost. And then along came another guy. I tried to stay away from him. But again, I felt special.

I knew this time though. I wasn’t special. He wasn’t even single. But I had a nice ass and a distinctive innocence that drew him to me. So he convinced me that if I would just make out with him, he would leave her and be with me. Of course that didn’t happen. Maybe if I just touched him he would want me more instead. Words without meaning were all he ever spewed though. There I was, left alone again and with more reason to dig the knife deeper.

But soon came along another guy. This one was different. We were friends, we got along splendidly, and when things were right a kiss sealed the deal. I was alone no more.

The urge still came to me. Family stung as much as any man ever would and my mother knew exactly where to land her daggers. Worthless, cold-hearted, selfish, pathetic, never meeting her expectations, a poor excuse of a daughter I’d make an even poorer excuse for a wife if I could ever even manage to become one.

He noticed. I deteriorated. Instead of a knife or razor I’d taken to using my own teeth and nails. I was literally tearing myself apart. By now all my scars have healed except one, where I’d torn open my wrist with my own fingernails in a moment of anguish.

But time turned on and I thought I had control. I was off to college now and I was going to have my own grand life. Feeble dreams they were of a weak mind. My dorm became a prison of my own making. Even friends and roommates weren’t allowed visitation. I was wasting away into my grief-stricken solitude. My father came, along with my boyfriend, and they pried me out of that cage.

Still, I did not recover. I returned home. I got to be with him and I made new and great friends. Friends I held dearly and who I thought maybe I could trust. But I was fooling myself again. I knew my trust was false. My mind was an enigma even to myself that false trust was all I could even imagine giving.

A year later was the night of my fall. In one fell swoop my self-destructive ways took from me two dear friends and the love of my life. A box cutter to my wrists was the only way I saw out. I was vile, despicable, and now that I was hated by those who had loved me I would leave behind no one to grieve my loss.

It didn’t work. Blood refused to pour from me. Dumb luck and poor circulation are probably to blame. That was when I turned to counseling. I had to lose it all, well, almost all, to build myself back from the rubble. Like a phoenix, or perhaps some less cliched creature, I rose from the mess I had been.

I have a life again. It’s not perfect. It’s not where I want to be. But you know what? I have true friends who stuck with me through all of that, who never turned their back on me. I have new friends who accept all the oddities about me. I have a new boyfriend who treats me better than I’ve ever been treated by a guy, who respects and loves me even with all my faults. I learned how much I really meant to my family. And I now have the chance to live out whatever life I so chose.

Sure, for now I have to depend on a pill to help keep my moods in check. Finding out I have bipolar disorder and OCD like my mother was no surprise, though the panic disorder with agoraphobia threw me for a bit of a loop. I still have panic attacks. I still have the urge. I still want to cut when I feel hopeless.

But I know I don’t have to. And I know that if I do I have people I can turn to who won’t judge me for doing it. When I get that low, even if I pick up a blade, a few deep breaths and I put it down because I am loved. And that is the most beautiful thing a person can be.

 

A Nightmare to Remember

“Little girl, you have a special way of meddling when you shouldn’t. Do you know how much easier this could have been for all of us? For you? For them?” A dark shadow that had haunted Bryla’s dreams for a while now suddenly pulled forth images of her parents on their knees with their hands tied behind their backs. They both looked at her in contempt as her grip on her halberd grew tighter.

            “You expect me to believe that you would have spared us? Please, I’m no idiot.” Bryla spat at him. With a swift and practiced motion she swung at the creature she could not name. With inhuman ease he stopped her with one arm as he brought a sword to the throats of her parents. Looking her dead in the eyes he cut their throats. A disgusting gurgling filled the air before it was silent again.

            “No!” Bryla ran to them. She held them in her arms as they slowly began to dissolve away. She returned her gaze to the shadow and there her parents knelt again, looking as if nothing at all had happened. Her eyes weld with tears as she pounded her fists on the ground.

            “Spare? That’s not the word I would use. But it would have been quick, painless, and pleasant even! Now…” A knife seems to appear out of nowhere. Slowly he drags it over her father’s jawline, causing a deep red gash to form until her gets to his ear. With a sickening smile he cuts off the ear. Bryla tries to cry out again but finds she has been silenced. A shout presses in her throat as he brings the knife to her mother.

            “She’s had some past trauma, hasn’t she? A bit your fault I would say. And now look at the mess they’re both in because of you. Had you just stuck to the deal they could be sitting happily at home, not a worry or a care. Your selfishness has caused this. Do not forget that.” Raising her mother’s shirt, he slashes her stomach, leaving an ‘X’.

            “Well, you know what they say. ‘X’ marks the spot!” He stabs straight into the middle of the ‘X’ he’d left. Again, Bryla watches as her mother dies, her father crying out in anguish and agony. Completely powerless to stop him, she crumples to the ground in defeat.

            With a snap it becomes just Bryla and the shadow in an empty grey space. She remains motionless. She doesn’t know the state of her parents. She doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t even know why she continues to fight this seemingly unstoppable force.

            “That’s right… Just give in. Give up. It will all be over soon, I promise. No more fear or pain or sorrow. Stop resisting the inevitable. You and that rabble of misfits are doomed to perish if you continue on the path you’re on.

            “No…” Using her halberd to steady her, Bryla stood back up. Looking back at him she refused to listen to anything he said. She could not back down now. She had come this far and she would fight as she always had. No more regrets. No more running away. She would protect her new-found friends or die trying.

            “No? Are you serious? You will burn! They will burn! You will all burn! Yet still you will not see reason? Fine, idiotic little human worm. But don’t forget, to get to me you’ll have to go through him.” As the words fell from his mouth the demonic man she had been forcibly betrothed to walked out of the abyss. He seemed to be covered in fire and his laugh came out like a roar. Bryla readied her halberd as she tried to remain composed.

            “Have fun. This resistance won’t last long. We’re coming for you. You will fall.” The shadow left as the man charged her. A struggle began but did not last long. Bryla’s halberd flew out of her hands and broke in two. Letting out another roaring laugh the man drove an axe right along her spine.

            A scream pierced the air as Bryla shot up in bed. She was soaked from a cold sweat and soon the ever chivalrous Nero ran in to make sure she was alright. After stuttering out a response he left a bit unwillingly, not entirely believing she was fine. Tossing and turning she finally managed to get some semblance of sleep. One thought kept her going; for better or worse, soon it would all be over. 

 

How It Began

“This is not your decision to make!” A dark-skinned, muscular man shouted. A crowd was gathered in the town hall building as a council of 5 looked out from a long oaken table.

“Durin, you have every right to be upset. But it’s her or the village. And I will not allow those animals to slaughter us. You are the only fighter among us. If he were to come here…” The older man at the center of the table shuddered. People in the crowd began their mumbles to fill in the blank he left hanging in the air.

“But she’s my only daughter. You cannot expect me to just give her to that… That monster! And you cannot expect her to go willingly,” Durin said almost with a smirk. He had raised no pushover.

“She will go on her own will or she will go chained. That choice remains hers. But she will go,” The elder was stern and as frightened as the townsfolk were they rallied with his words.

“Cowards… The whole lot of you! After all I’ve done for this town. I’ve heard enough of this,” Durin stormed out and swiftly returned to his farm house outside of the village. His wife went to greet him happily until she saw the look of distress on his face.

“Honey, what’s wrong? What was that meeting about?” Mara said as she moved to him.

“You should sit down first. Where is Bryla? There is something I need to tell her. Something she needs to hear,” Durin could not look his wife in the eyes.

“I will get her. She’s just outside, back from her run with Ivan. Damn dog better not have brought back another bird or rabbit this time. Such a mess he makes,” Mara let out a nervous laugh as she felt how tense the air had become.

“Oh Mom, it’s not that bad. Can’t blame him for wanting a bite to eat after all that running about. Speaking of which, what’s for dinner?” A tall, toned girl popped in wiping sweat from her brow. A flush graced her dark cheeks as a smile spread on her face when she saw her father was home.

“Bryla, I have something very important I need to tell you,” Durin tried to look at her but could not bring himself to do it. The smile faded from Bryla’s face as she sat down next to her mother. Little did she know it would be quite some time before one would come back. Taking a deep breath, and finally locking his brown eyes with Bryla’s dark grey ones, Durin told them both of what had transpired at the meeting.

“I refuse! I would not allow myself to be a bargaining chip for a man much less a demon such as that. The Doom Bringer shall not have me for a bride,” Rage stirred in Bryla but under that was fear; a nibble of worry that told her that this had to be. She had been robbed of any free will to decide for herself.

“I’m afraid there is little choice in the matter. Little though it may be there is still one choice you have. Go with the men sent to gather you tomorrow morning or run,” If it had not been for the seriousness of the situation Bryla would have thought her father was joking. Never before had he suggested running. Always he had trusted her to handle herself and if needed that he could save her from anything.

“I can’t run! What about you two? If I run this village will be burned to the ground, the people slaughtered, blood will cover everything! We all know what happened in Dunsborough. I won’t that happen to you,” Her determination showed steady but still the fear underneath screamed run from her subconscious.

“Don’t worry about such things! For all we know, once he got ahold of you he’d come back here for ‘fun’ anyway. Please, escape with your life. You know your father wouldn’t tell you to do this unless he thought it was the absolute last resort,” Tears welled in her mother’s eyes as she pleaded for her to go. Pain showed plainly in Bryla’s expression as she looked back and forth between her parents. They were right. She had to run.

With a nod of her head she turned to pack a few things from her room, including her halberd and a bit of armor her father had gotten for her. Jasper and Riven were curled up on her bed. The grey tabby cat, Jasper, let out a soft meow as Riven, the calico cat, stretched out. Both moved towards Bryla as she shoved things in her pack. For a moment she petted them both until they began purring.

“Come, you mustn’t dawdle. You’ll need as much of a head start as you can get,” Her father’s words snapped Bryla back to her task as she finished grabbing her weapon, armor, and some clothes. She walked out of her room to say her good byes.

“Well, you always did want to travel,” That was just like her mother, trying to see the bright side of things. Tears now freely streamed down her cheeks. She was clutching something tightly in her hand which she held out to Bryla.

“This was your grandmother’s. She gave it to me when I was younger, just about your age in fact. I want you to have it. So you can always remember home,” Mara gave her daughter a necklace. The chain looked to be made of silver, as did the intricate design around the green jewel dangling from it. Tears now threaten Bryla as she put the necklace on before giving her mother a hug.

Next she turned to her father. Silently he had begun to cry as well. Neither of them were ever much for words. They both gave a stiff nod of their heads before embracing. After a moment Bryla turned to leave.

“Be safe, little angle. We love you,” Her mother said as she wrapped her arm around one of Durin’s, their hands interlocking.

“Of course I will be. And I love you both too,” Tears now stained her face as she walked out the door of her home for the last time.

 

I Said I Never Would

An unfamiliar rasp catches in my voice.
You offer me another as if I have a choice.
Add a new vice to my list.
Stinging in my lungs like the time we first kissed.

Jack and Coke wait for me at the table.
I inhale deeply; exhale as slowly as I’m able.
Slowly white turns brown.
Should I even bother with this crown?

The tingle is new but the wanting is not.
A buzz flows through me when I take my next shot.
My smile unwanted spreads.
You know it well through the strings you thread.

How many more times shall I cave?
You lead me only to misbehave.
You rule my life.
I should get used to struggle and strife.

Still I take another sweet drag.
Ashes on end begin to sag.
Burning fills my lungs.
I have at last succumb.

 

Scoliosis

My spine feels like a metal snake
trying to coil around my insides.
Old surgeries no longer enough
to keep it locked down.

My muscles writhe as they struggle
against my own backbone.
I twist and turn for relief
I will never receive.

Aspirin does little to combat
pain of this nature.
Perhaps a fifth of whiskey
calms more than my mind.

Everything has it’s breaking point
that it slowly bends to.
I fear mine is approaching
quicker than expected.

 

For You

Soon the sorrow overflows

I do not know which way dreams blow

And for you I cannot postpone

My life should be my own

 

Now I lie in despair

For a path I will not share

And even if you could bear

The weight will begin to wear

 

Pour myself another drink

The past is all I can think

After all I will sink

You brought me beyond the brink

 

Acceptance is your fear

In denial you drive your spear

I will shed another tear

You retort with another jeer

 

You will smile as I cry

And you laugh as I die

Joy is your hateful lie

Why do I still sing this lullaby?

 

Fear(draft)

Veins burn with ice at the thought.

Memories plague my mind.

How easy it would be to end.

A few words could set it off.

Words become fists as a planned bomb drops.

Blood coats our knuckles but it’s not your first punch.

Your victim watches as my fingers find your neck.

It’s over.

Now all our lives are over.

He’s not the only one.

His hero in cold blood I rise to him.

My actions cannot be undone.

He turns away.

I always knew.

Your revenge was the sweetest.

So I drown instead.

Pulling him up as I fall behind.

Your crime and his mistake are mine.

Punishment is suffered not by you.

You believe you are undeserving.

One day it will be your turn to fall.

But I will not drown for you.