Jackelynn (I know this is confusing but it will make sense soon)

I woke up to the sound of my Father yelling at my Mom again. It was two in the morning and he was right on time. He’d probably been out doing what he seems to do best, getting drunk. It seems to be the only thing he ever does. Then he comes home to my Mom completely wasted. My Dad became an alcoholic ever since he lost his job six months ago. He’s been unemployed this whole time and we can hardly make ends meet. Any money we get just ends up being spent on boos. My Mom’s tried suggesting that my father go to an A.A. meeting. It’s always the same result; Dad gets angry, refuses, and Mom ends up sitting alone in their bedroom crying and covered in bruises. Now that I’m seventeen, I got a job at the Stop N’ Shop down the street. It’s the only thing I can do besides comfort my mom and fix her up after another fight with my Dad. I know he doesn’t mean to her hurt her. Somewhere deep down, I know he still loves us. I hope.

Aurora

I woke up the next morning, one side of my face still wet from my soaked-through pillow. Who knew that one person could generate so many tears? I wondered. The sun was coming in through the window and down into my eyes. Stupid sun. I rolled over and covered my head with my pillow. For a brief second, I forgot last night. I had forgotten the horrible thing that I had done. I took the pillow off of my head and sat up in my bed. Then everything flooded back to me as soon as I saw my arm. How was I even going to hide this? If somebody found out, I could get sent away to rehab, or even some kind of mental hospital. Was I crazy? Why did I even do it in the first place? I regretted what I had done, yet somehow I wanted to do it again, and that scared me. When I did it, when I cut myself, I just couldn’t control it. I just kept wanting more.
What would happen if it wasn’t enough?

The Start Of My Story

Aurora

I couldn’t take it anymore. Before I knew what I was doing, I was already standing up and opening the drawer. Pulling out the heart-shaped box. Tearing open the tin lid. I had never noticed how red the box was, blood red. Inside the box was the shining blade of steel that had beckoned me. I traced my finger around its sharp edge, giggling to myself. Isn’t this funny? Look what the supposedly great, calm, and sane girl has resorted to. Like no one saw this coming. I laughed again, louder and harder this time. Then I became serious. It was time. I reached into the tin and pulled out the knife. I watched as it glinted in the green glow of my lava lamp. Slowly, as if in a dreamy trance, I lifted the blade and dragged it across the thin skin of my wrist. Gently at first, because I was scared. Then harder, leaving a fine line of the crimson elixir that kept me living. It slowly grew larger and began dripping down my arm as I held it up for examination. A cruel smile slid across my face. I couldn’t help it, I made another cut. I kept going, making the wounds smaller and smaller as I went down my arm. The rush was amazing as I felt the adrenaline course throughout my body. Then words began flashing through my head like a movie on fast-forward:
Regret
Pain
Inconsiderate
Guilty
Fear
Help
Uncontrollable
STOP!
Hot tears rushed down my face as I dropped the knife.
What had I done?