Truth

This is fiction. For the S Project

I am so confused. Why can't I breathe? Why are my arms tied down? Where the hell am I? Damn it! What is going on? I drift off again...

"Dina, Dina, honey? Can you hear me?" I can hear the sound, but I don't know where it's coming from. Silence. "Hey you? How are you doing? We are worried about you?" I dont reply, I can't open my eyes, I don't know how to answer. Silence.

Slowly I wake up. The lights are so bright, my family is gathered around me, my mom is hovering right over me. What is going on?

Oh, shit! The last thing I remember, I was sitting on my kitchen floor, it was something I did often. The cutting, the blood, the ritual. It is such a part of my life. At the end of a hard day I get the knife out of the drawer, sit on the cold floor. I take a few deep breaths.. The knife slides right into my skin. Red emerges and starts dripping. I feel euphoria, relief, peace. It's the only 5 minutes of peace I have in a day. This act, this ritual is all about me. In those fleeting moments I have control of my being. No one else can hurt me.

"Dina, my name is Dr. Nelson. Your husband found you passed out on the kitchen floor. You must have hit an artery. We have given you a transfusion. Once you are strong enough we will need to admit you to a psych ward. You need professional help. We want you to be well."

I don't need help. I am fine. Really.


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This is for The Scheheraze Project.