I saved a girl before. I saved her body from going lifeless, but I don’t know if I saved her dying, lonely soul.
The fight between mind and body, she goes through it every day, whispering desperate pleas to God, asking Him to let her go. As the whispers turn into silent cries each passing night, she does the unspeakable, her hand frantically crawling under her pillow. She takes out a crude blade and holds it in her trembling, weak hands. She gives a sigh of relief and places the blade upon her beating pulse, a secret addiction forbidden to leave the walls of her room. Her only witness is God alone, still and silent, merely watching her out of the corner of His eye. All her prayers, bargains, and wishes left unheard, untouched, scattered at His feet.
When I walked in on her, her wrist was already red. She sat there motionless staring out the window, compulsively scratching at her wounds. I was shocked yet couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I just knelt beside her and placed my hand upon hers. She stopped and turned her eyes toward me, dead and lifeless. A face once full of laughter was gaunt and held down by the weight of reality, a shadow of a life behind her. I broke out of her empty stare and gave a staggered breath.
“Aren’t you going to ask what’s wrong?” she asked, smirking as she took her hand away from mine.
Her smirk flickered, held out for a moment, then collapsed, and with it so did her body. She fell forward in a spiral of tears, strangled cries broke out from her throat, and she clawed at her face, her throat, her arms, growing out of control. I held her fast to me, and she let herself go, the sea of grief unending. She started to wipe her tears, which mixed with the blood from her wrist. I clung to her out of fear and desperation, silently begging God to help me calm her down.
After a while she tired out, and little trembles ran through her body. I could hardly make her out anymore in the dark, and only her tears and blood shined in the lingering light. For the next hour I didn’t say a word as I listened to her and her desperate cries for help.
“There’s no one here,” she whispered, “No one in the whole f*ing world.” She moved away from me, and hugged herself, cradling her own body as if to reassure her that the truth she said just wasn’t truth at all.
“Do you know what happened, yesterday? S***, I’ll going to tell you anyway. My family forgot about my birthday. I sound so stupid and arrogant saying this, but it was my birthday. The one reason I remembered my own birthday was because of the stupid notifications on Facebook. All those people who saw my birthday on their newsfeed give more of a f*** than the shitty people I have in my life.
“That’s the saddest thing, you know. When people who don’t know you at all care more about you than those you fooled yourself into thinking that they cared about you. And all your life you live it as if the world cares about you too. That maybe you’re meant for something more than yourself. But damn, you find out— you know— you find out that you’re just a worthless piece of s***. The friends you’ve made until now, the hugs you gave and received, the kisses, everything… it’s just all worthless along with you. Why does it matter if I hurt myself? My body’s going to break down by itself, forgotten, anyway.”
Silent tears streamed down her face as she quietly continued on.
“God, I sound like a self-obsessed five year old. But everyone should get a chance in their life to let off these feelings, don’t you think? Up until now I’ve kept all this pent up in me and just accepted what comes to me. The friends that I thought would be there for me used me and took me for granted. When I tried to open myself up to them, they didn’t want that. No, not at all, even after all the times I was there when no one was. God, I can’t remember a time when I abandoned anyone. What have I done wrong, why can’t they treat me the same? It’s so lonely having to pretend that everything’s ok with you all the time. When others break down or have a hard time, they get sympathy. So why can’t I too? When the hell did I get any of that?! And when I let a tear go or a frown the whole world is onto me, all they do is stare.”
She paused and looked out the window, slowly caressing her mangled wrist.
“God, I’m so lonely. I’m so so lonely. Oh, God—”
The girl started to whimper until one anguished cry escaped from her throat, and it rang through the room as if it had been waiting for years to be heard. Yet, no one beyond the walls of the room even heard an echo.
“I know so many people, I love so many people. Why can’t just one person return it? That’s all I want, just one person…”
For the next hour she cried herself to sleep, pounding her fist on her chest trying to stop herself feeling anything. She wanted to numb herself to the pain, to the world. And as the night passed by and dawn settled in, the girl fell asleep into another of her lonely nightmares.
The next time I opened my eyes, the morning light shined through the window. I sleepily looked around for the broken girl but she was gone. Picking up her blade, I quietly tucked it back under her pillow. As I walked to the door, I paused at a mirror and gave myself a small smile.
My face was stained with remnants of tears and blood.