𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚎

𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚗 𝚟𝚊𝚙𝚎

She sat on her bed; the darkness not only hiding her, but the watermelon vape sitting in her pocket. She was 15: it's pretty illegal but it turned those sour thoughts into a spinning blurring carnival. 

She stared at the at her phone, the video's one after another: the video's displayed words that could cut like a knife. 

Or a razor in Gillian's mind. 

After every video, she'd take a hit, or two if the words cut ever so deeper. They weren't about her; no,  Astrid would never do that to her. Lydia, that's who they were aimed at. Gillian loves Lydia. She always has. Lydia showed Gillian a love no one else has. 

Astrid once loved Lydia too, That's the one difference that separated the two friends. They were twins, a splitting image of each other's personalities. That's probably what drew Lydia to Astrid; how much she was like Gillian, only her parents liked her, plus she seemed different enough.But Astrid wasn't like Gillian: Gillian was sugar, Astrid was cinnamon. Mistaken for sweet, but really isn't. 

She paused at the last video. 

Hate and Lydia could never form one sentence in her mind but yet it was written, typed onto a small silver screen in bold black writing. Shards of glass replaced Gillian's heart. She quickly turned off her phone. Her eyes stung, why  would she say that? How could someone take one person's side instead of your own, then bounce back to you and try to take down that person they once loved so deeply? How? Gillian couldn't understand it. 

She stood up in a rush, putting on a hoodie and stuffing the vape and something else in her pockets. She went in the laundry toilet; the door didn't lock but no one would come in. It was common curtesy in her house to not go into the toilet if the laundry light is on as well. She sat on top of the toilet with the seat closed. She turned up the music playing in her earbuds to full blast; it almost drowned out the sounds of the thoughts in her head. 

Do it, they said. Make it your problem. Have a reason to hurt. A real reason. The blade ran across her skin like a paint brush, painting her skin in scarlet and maroon. The sting: it was almost euphoric. And with the spinning, the feeling that she had stopped spinning around in circles. Soon that euphoria turned into dysphoria, the pain hurt. It never hurt before. Gillian looked at her thigh, taking some toilet paper to stop the blood that was rushing out of her body like a waterfall. 

Why Lydia? Why did Astrid have to say those things about Lydia, she put her life in danger by using her name. She's been told so many times to stop. Gillian knew all to well. 

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. 

"You okay?"

 It read. 

It was Lydia. 

Then another buzz.

It was Astrid.