THE ROOM FELT isolated ; dark, && naomi never
felt comfortable. it was quiet && no one else was known in the
same room — she situates into a corner, arms embraced her
legs as they’re placed under her chin, eyelid droop with brows
falling. her anxiety starts to build in, kicking in her self-loathing,
the urge to D E S T R O Y her being burns within her veins.
naomi is alone. no one there to help her, no one is there to tell her
it’s going to be okay — NO ONE to reassure && erasing hatred
thoughts out from her consciousness. memories of her past ; her
bullies stick in her vision — && it frightens her. she’d remember
their voices — their words — && their PUNCHES.
as it flashes straight into the outbreak. where she lost her
parents — her friends ; her dignity. all the companions that
came && went, her best friend Cecilia, her siblings ; all
because of her I M P U L S I V E && RECKLESS attitude.
she finds a sharp piece of glass by her, a hand pulls up her
sleeve — as her vision starts to BLUR with tears. her old habits
returning with a vengeance. her heart starts to sink, her throat
dry, skin trembling. but not a thought passes && naomi quickly
grasps that glass in her frail hand && the sharp end trails over
her, already, scarred arm from before — going over old ones,
yet creating new ones as she goes along.
by now her arm is drenched in crimson. a wave of regret fill
her senses ; && there she finally breaks down. harder to breathe.
harder to SEE, harder to h e a r. naomi never noticed elliot as he
walks in, instead her palm slaps onto her leaking arm, all she could
taste was her tears && feel her hand wetter by seconds.
