She walked into my bedroom. Head down, I looked up into the window in front of me. I saw her reflection. I hated her with a passion, so I avoided eye-contact. She walked closer, but I tried to ignore her. She was nothing more than a shadow to me. Being in her presence was something I had experienced often, but hated every moment of. She treated me like shit, perhaps worse than shit. I went on wishing she weren’t there. I looked at her, and she was glaring back at me. She said nothing, but I knew what she was thinking. She thought that I was fat, ugly, and hated me just as much as I hated her. Being a young teen girl, I thought the same of myself, but coming from her, it hurt so much more. My room was dark, and my music was quietly playing in the background. I had hardly noticed my music since she was there; unwelcome in my own room, looking around at all the posters that hung on the wall, then back at me. I looked away. Nothing was said, and the tension increased. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t tell her to leave. Speechless, I just sat there, thinking. She looked unhappy, almost angry with me, but still...nothing could be done. She put me down everyday, and even sabotaged my relationships with boyfriends, and made my friends hate me. I hated her more than anybody in the world, and she was in my bedroom, unwelcome.

A thought passed through my mind suddenly, like a bolt of electricity. The same thought that had passed through my mind every time she was near me. The thought scared me, because I had heard about dangerous people around the world, but I never thought that I was or would ever be one of them. I glanced over at the pair of scissors sitting on my desk, then quickly back at her. She was looking at me. She then looked at the scissors. She knew what I was thinking. I suddenly got very nervous. The tension grew significantly as the silence grew stronger. I started to cry. How could she hurt me so much that I would think thoughts like these? She ruined my life, and I wanted to ruin hers. I grabbed the pair of scissors, weakly, from the desk, and started to cry more. I couldn’t even look at her. I was ashamed of myself. She didn’t even fight back when I started to cut her wrists. Blood dripped on the floor. It hurt her, I could tell. She was crying, but not screaming. She wouldn’t refuse what I was doing to her. I continued to slice at her wrists, trying to get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible. I fainted.

I awoke to an empty room with quiet music playing. I quickly remembered what had happened. I felt ashamed, and scared. I quickly, though weakly, stumbled into my bathroom. I washed the blood off my hands and wrists. I held toilet paper to my wrists to stop them from bleeding. I sat there, breathlessly, crying…I couldn’t believe what I had done. I was beside myself.

Reposted from it's original page that can be found on deviantART.
Unwelcome. by *punkie078 (aka Benji)