Screaming Scars (short story)

My mom thinks I'm crazy now. Partly because I got my lip pierced without telling her then came home the next day with my nose pierced too. She says it's all because I'm looking for attention but that's not true. I wanted it because it's who I am. My style, my life, and my body. I can decorate any way I want to. Just like the scars I wear as a sign, to warn people of what can happen when I lose control. My scars scream disease, mental disease. I can't rewind time and go back so that they never exist because then I wouldn't exist. They saved me from leaving reality because they were my form of escape. This is all two much for my mom to understand. All she thinks is that I'm hurting her and myself and that she feels helpless. She's crying and she doesn't know what to do, how to help her only son get rid of the pain inside. It's been a while since I've been without my scars and now I'm not sure I'd want to replace them. Who wants clear, perfect skin? It's fake and empty. It makes you feel even more fake and empty inside. 1

Ryan always tells me to stop hurting myself because it really hurts him. It's really hard though because this is what I have become now. A self-harmer, a bleeder, a mental patient, a cutter. 2

The nurse calls my name and I'm walking into the little room with my mom beside me. My mom asks me if I need her and I tell her to go because I'm 16 years old and I should go myself. Once we are in the tiny room, the nurse asks me why I'm here. 3

"My mom thinks I'm crazy. She wants you to put me in a home for psycho people."4

The nurse looks concerned, then she glances at her clipboard with my information on it. 5

"It says here Zachary, that your mother is worried about your mental health. She caught you in your room with you sitting on the floor with a metal blade slicing at your arms. Is this true?"6

I stare at the white, linoleum floor. It's so clean, so cold...so empty. But even though everything looks so clean, I don't feel clean sitting here. I feel like she's looking through a window in my forhead and reading all my thoughts. My thoughts about killing myself and escaping from this room. My thoughts that make me go insane and make me question my existence. 7

"Yeah that might be true."8

The nurse gets up and walks out of the room for a little bit. Leaving me by myself with just my twisted thoughts and scarred arms and legs. Although they are hidden away by my clothes, I feel like the clothes make them more visible. Make them stand out. 9

When the nurse comes back in my mother is with her. She tells me that the nurse think's it would be best for me to go to a rehab or maybe a therapist. Suddenly reality sinks in, and I run down the hall and outside the building. My legs are like jello and my head throbs. Ten seconds later my mother is behind me holding me in her arms and crying.
My nightmare has just begun. And I realize that all the times I wished I would die only matter now, when dying would really help. 10

11

Not too much after that, I moved into Spinelli Healing Center. I feel so distant from my friends back in school, and Ryan isn't allowed to visit that often. I really miss him. Ryan's my boyfriend, but my mom wishes I could've been different. She wishes I were straight instead of gay, I can tell. She's a hard core Catholic so everything I am is against her beliefs. She thinks I got obsessed with 'killing myself' because of him, but that's not true. I would never kill myself because of him, I love him! I wanna be with him always. When I cut, I'm not trying to kill myself and that's the part she doesn't really understand. It was Ryan who tried to get me help in the beginning, and my fault he got pushed away. This place is quiet, except for the few patients telling of their pain. The walls and floors are this dull grayish white shade and they took everything away from me. I can't text Ryan because they took my phone. I can't listen to my ipod because they say it could be a trigger for cutting or suicide. If anything in here makes me suicidal, it's the fact that I'm in a freakin mental hospital and I'm living like a prisoner! The worst part was that they took my piercings away from me because they're sharp objects, and aren't allowed. It's not fair, It's not like I was planning on taking them out to stab myself with them so I can die. Cutting doesn't mean you wanna die! Why can't anyone else understand that!?