A Cut so Deep - Dani Rene Page 0,12

before smiling down at his new pride and joy—Marcia.

5

Nesrin

The Past

My mother’s angry. I watch her pace back and forth, her body rigid at my outburst. I hate being here, I never wanted to go to the stupid casting, but she insisted. I tried, I really did, but I just couldn’t face those people prodding and poking at me.

Four faces, four sets of eyes were on me, watching me intently. They wanted me to perform like a dancing monkey, and I hated every moment. My anxiety curled slowly in my gut, twisting it painfully. My stomach tightened into a knot, it stole my breath, and that’s when I started hyperventilating.

Nobody understands.

They all thought I was some crazy daughter of a well-loved actress, throwing a hissy fit. But I’m not. I’m old enough to know when I’m uncomfortable. So, instead of opening my mouth and telling them, choking out the words, I couldn’t form any, so I ran. Right out of the room.

Why can’t my mother understand?

“This is going to make me look like an idiot to the people I have to work with,” she finally speaks. “Do you know how much you’ve embarrassed me?” Finally, she stops pacing, her glower on me makes me shrink back. “Sixteen! You’re a fucking teenager, and you can’t even open your goddamned mouth!” Her voice bounces off the walls of my bedroom, the sound burying itself in my mind; the words, filled with poison, slowly burrowing under my skin.

Every time she’s ever insulted me, shouted at me and been angry at me feels like it’s coming to the forefront and slowly rising up to the surface of my skin.

Sweat dots my arms, the nape of my neck. My stomach is aching, but I know if I move now, she’ll only laugh at me, tell me I’m overreacting.

“I don’t know how I got lumped with you as a daughter.” Ice fills my veins, and I want to respond and tell her I don’t know either. But I don’t because it will only make her angrier.

She turns around, looking at my bedroom. My haven. I’m almost sure she wants to smash everything within reach, but she doesn’t.

“You’ll stay in here for the next two days to think about what you’ve done. I’ll have your food brought to you.” She spins on her designer four-inch heel and leaves the room.

I’m getting so used to people leaving me, that watching someone’s retreating form is no longer scary, it’s welcomed.

Pushing to my feet, I race into my bathroom and shut the door, locking it behind me. Leaning against the cool wooden surface, I close my eyes as the tears slowly trickle down my cheeks.

My hands shake as I try to calm down, but I know I won’t be able to until I’ve opened the box. My feet carry me to the cupboard where I know I’ll find what I need. My stomach coils with the promise of a panic attack. My breathing comes in short spurts of rushed expelled air.

With trembling fingers, I pull open the cabinet door and find the small box that’s been my salvation, and I can almost breathe again. Flicking the lid, I pull out what I need and slide to the floor. My head falls back against the cupboard as I hold onto the box. Inside, I find what I need. Pulling my shorts up to the crease of my leg, where my panty line is visible at my hip, I sit crossed-legged and find a spot on my inner thigh.

I blink back the tears that fall. My body is shaking, but I know the moment I cut into my porcelain flesh, it will all be okay. My fingers shake as I hold onto the metal object. Gently, I press the silver blade to my skin and push harder, until I feel the release shooting through me.

The tightness in my muscles ease. Coiled anxiety which was a heavy looming figure racing behind me, ready to snatch me in its claws, dissipates. The dark cloud that felt like a storm hanging over me disappears as the sting skitters through me. The sky is no longer dark, the soft blue appears, and my lungs don’t feel like I’ve run a marathon, they easily pull in air.

I watch my blood trickle from the cut, the small wound opening, and the pain and heartache from today spills along with the crimson to the floor. It’s only a small cut, one that will heal quickly. I’ve never made bigger incisions