I pressed my nails against my cheek and pulled them down to my chin. It felt cold at first, then began to sting. It wasn't enough pain. I need more, I thought. I wanted to show them I was truly sorry. I had to have evidence on the outside of me too. I kept scratching my cheek, sometimes deeper, sometimes lightly. At one point, I glanced at my nails and saw there was skin from my cheeks in my nails. I felt no fear, pain, nothing. I wanted to be forgiven.
“Get out,” my mom did not dare look at me. I got out, slowly. Cars zoomed past behind, but the noise they made was muffled. I looked at my thought-to-be parents' hard expressions. They were leaving me. Normally, in a situation like this I should feel betrayal, hatred. I could not feel anything but love for them. No matter what was going on now, I kept in mind the love they had showed me in the past.
“Goodbye, don't die too quickly,” my dad said with a hint of amusement. Before I knew it they'd already sped away, to the safety of home. Vehicles were honking in the background, but I simply stood there, not thinking. I could only count my breaths, struggling to regulate my racing heart. What happens now?
When they were gone I began walking the opposite way, taking in the entangled bridges full of busy cars. The sky was blue and without a cloud in sight, just the almighty sun glaring at me without sympathy. Stupid sun making me sweat on such a miserable day. I turned my back to the bright sun and began walking forward, each step coming faster. Soon I was running, my eyes blurry with sweat and the tears that had somehow escaped. No room to feel self-pity, I told myself. All I could do now was confront what had brought me down from my sanctuary.
