#altf

Dylan, it’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. I took a deep breath and grasp tighter on the edge of the bathtub I was sitting on in my bathroom. Fresh out of the tub with fresh cuts on the insides of my thighs, I looked over in the tub at the bloodly razors inside the tub and turned back on the water rising off the razors. Who are you kidding, Dylan? This is all your fault. I felt nauseous and uneasy as I began to stand. I walked over to the toilet, tears starting to fall from my face as I kneeled down to sit in front of the toilet. I released what was left in my stomach into the toilet; throwing up after cutting means that you’ve lost a lot of blood too fast. Of course I knew that, I am a daughter of a surgeon. 

I stood in front of the mirror admiring my new scars and my old ones. I was going through a tough battle and it isn’t predictable who’ll come out victorious just yet. I smirked and ran my hand through my hair like my mother, Addison, always did. It was a habit that I -nor Addison- could ever break. I wouldn’t be surprised if Lena even started to do it. I stared at my reflection for a moment more before hearing a small knock on my door. The knock could only belong to one tiny human, Lena. I wrapped the robe around my body to open my door to my little sister standing there smiling, “Hi, Dylan. I woke up from my nap.” I smiled and picked up the little girl, ignoring the pain I just endured on herself. “I’m glad you’re up, Lena. I was just about to paint my toenails.”

“Oh! I want to paint them! Can I do it, Dylan?” Lena enjoys painting my nails. The little one enjoyed painting everyone’s toenails and fingernails, ”Only if you let me paint yours.” I smiled at my little sister. “It’s a deal. What color do you want Dylan? Pink?”

“Pink it is.” 

--

I wake up from my nap and stretch before I hop out of the bed.  I yawn and smile as I realize that it’s the afternoon and Dylan’s home from school.  I go to her room to find her door close so I knock and wait for her to open her door.  She comes to the door and I smile as she opens it up,  “Hi, Dylan. I woke up from my nap.”  I smiled as Dylan picked me up and said to me, “I’m glad you’re up, Lena.  I was just about to paint my toenails.”

“Oh! I want to paint them!  Can I do it, Dylan?”  I love painting nails.  I like painting everyone’s nails and toenails.  Dylan spoke back to me saying, ”Only if you let me paint yours.”  I smiled at my big sister. “It’s a deal.”  I giggle,  ”What color do you want Dylan? Pink?”

Dylan, it’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. I took a deep breath and grasp tighter on the edge of the bathtub I was sitting on in my bathroom. Fresh out of the tub with fresh cuts on the insides of my thighs, I looked over in the tub at the bloodly razors inside the tub and turned back on the water rising off the razors. Who are you kidding, Dylan? This is all your fault. I felt nauseous and uneasy as I began to stand. I walked over to the toilet, tears starting to fall from my face as I kneeled down to sit in front of the toilet. I released what was left in my stomach into the toilet; throwing up after cutting means that you’ve lost a lot of blood too fast. Of course I knew that, I am a daughter of a surgeon. 

I stood in front of the mirror admiring my new scars and my old ones. I was going through a tough battle and it isn’t predictable who’ll come out victorious just yet. I smirked and ran my hand through my hair like my mother, Addison, always did. It was a habit that I -nor Addison- could ever break. I wouldn’t be surprised if Lena even started to do it. I stared at my reflection for a moment more before hearing a small knock on my door. The knock could only belong to one tiny human, Lena. I wrapped the robe around my body to open my door to my little sister standing there smiling, “Hi, Dylan. I woke up from my nap.” I smiled and picked up the little girl, ignoring the pain I just endured on herself. “I’m glad you’re up, Lena. I was just about to paint my toenails.”

“Oh! I want to paint them! Can I do it, Dylan?” Lena enjoys painting my nails. The little one enjoyed painting everyone’s toenails and fingernails, ”Only if you let me paint yours.” I smiled at my little sister. “It’s a deal. What color do you want Dylan? Pink?”