"I was fine. That was, until

it happened.

It was the beginning of my sophmore year. I was on my way to homeroom when I saw him. I stopped dead in my tracks. I tried to remember how to breathe when the bell rung. He sprinted towards the closest classroom. I ran into my class, and sulked to the back, grabbing a sharp edged ruler on the way. I sat down and the teacher started his lecture. I let my thoughts drown out his droning voice. I slipped my arm under the desk, scrunched up my sleeve, and put the cold, sharp blade to my skin...
I walked out of the classroom and found him staring at me. Was that disgust in his eyes? The halls cleared, and he practically pinned me to the wall. His overpowering grip yanked out my wrist. He almost tore my sleeve off. He yelled at me. "WHAT THE HELL ARE THESE?!" He pointed to the newly swollen slits on my wrists. He shoved it away, and proceeded down the hallway.

And that's when I woke up."

My therapist nodded stiffly and looked up. "Is this dream what really happened?" I squinted at her. I hated when she talked about my boyfriend- also known as "him"- found my "doings". He told my parents and now I'm stuck here, in a mental hospital.
I remember the day he came to say goodbye. I was sitting on the stairwell begging, screaming, crying for him not to go....
But he did. Maybe thats why I'm still here. Spending my parent's money, not making "progress".
My therapist stood up and called the nurses. I didn't even realize I was having another "meltdown".
Maybe I would be fine.

If it weren't for


him.