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Trigger warning.

Self-harm

+++

We rode in silence, no one saying a word. I watched droplets of rain slide down my window, an empty feeling piercing my chest.

I felt the need to hurt, to hurt, to forget. I wanted to forget, to feel nothing, to feel in control. It was the only way I felt in control.

"What do you want to eat, Alessia?" Julian asked from the drivers seat. He turned down the radio so he could hear me but I just shrugged.

"Either you pick something or I make a reservation," Angelo said, giving me an ultimatum. "And no McDonalds."

I mocked him under my breath. Mattia chuckled beside me. But McDonald's is my favourite.

"I'm sorry, you have to have a decent meal," Angelo said, glancing over his shoulder to look at me. "Don't look at me like Lessie. We had McDonald's last night."

I simply rolled my eyes.

"Why don't you just make a reservation," Mattia said, "and you can explain why we're staying in town longer than planned." He didn't sound upset about it, just curious. I was too.

"Julian and I have a couple of work meetings," Angelo explained, quietly. "It won't take more than a day to deal with these fuckers -"

"Angelo, watch your language," Mattia snapped at our older brother who waved his hand, dismissing him. I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Yeah, yeah, Matti. Alessia, don't swear too much," Angelo said, "or else our brother will blame me. And I'll never hear the end of it."

Sometimes it was hard to believe Angelo was the oldest ... because he sure didn't act like it.

My oldest brother made a reservation at a restaurant called The Melting Pot, a fancy, elegant establishment with an expensive menu. We had a wonderful view of the city line as the sun folded beneath the buildings and harbour.

Julian pulled out my seat and gestured for me to sit down. I did; not able to take my eyes of off the view. "Wow. This is amazing."

"I know right?" Angelo chirped, taking a seat across from me. Mattia took the the seat next to me and draped his suit jacket across the back of his seat.

"Order anything you want," Mattia said, a smirk on his face, "Angelo is paying."

+++

After dinner, we made our way back to the hotel. I felt exhausted, physically and mentally. Mattia unlocked the room and I followed him inside. Julian and Angelo had gone to their meeting, and my heart continued to pound with anxiety, my bones ached with sadness.

I headed into the bathroom as soon as Mattia shut the adjoining door to Angelo and Julian's room, locking it the door behind me.

I reached into my overnight bag, into the inner compartment and fetched the straight razor, twirling it in my fingers. I felt an overwhelming desire to hurt, to see red, because it would make me feel numb.

Wanting to feel it, I pulled up my dress and pressed the blade into my thigh, blood seeping out from the wound. I did it three more times before holding the pristine white towel to my leg. It didn't take too long for the blood to clot. I cleaned around the cuts as best as I could, dabbing away the blood stains that ran down my leg.

I didn't need to be bleeding profusely to feel content, relief coursing through me as the pain ignited. I just needed a little bit to of pain to feel in control again. I closed my eyes, resting my head against back against the tile.

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