Have you ever think about dangerous thing? Like, how will it feels when you slammed your body to the road, or how will your fingers will survive if you drag your hands while your motorcycle is running. Have you?
Maureen lifted her tote bag, it was heavy on her left hand. Her right one felt like burning. She stared at her right palm for the God knows how many times. The red lines were still visible. Even though the scars were slowly healing, she still can felt the, yes, burn, and she, somehow, satisfied.
She just cut her right palm, one right below her thumb, made long lines across her palm; one on her middle finger’s side; one on the pinky finger. With a fresh and clean razor blade, of course. She couldn’t deal with tetanus or something similar.
Maureen didn’t have to hide the scar from her parents; they won’t knew. They believed in her as a cheerful normal teenage girl, not as an over-emotional and over-thinking anything kind of girl. And, oh, dramatizing everything she felt.
But, then, she was satisfied. She succeeded in cutting herself and not feeling pain because of that. Somehow, she felt proud with herself. But, she secretly cringed when wind brushed against her palm. It was hurt, but not that hurt, though.
Those red lines; it was beautiful.
Not that Maureen had a suicidal thought, though. She just simply curious. But, then she later think about it, who would interested in cutting her own palm just to feel the pain?
Actually she wanted to tell Lucy about this new lines, but she left the school earlier. She thought about capturing it and sending it to her via online, but, meh, Maureen felt like she will stared weirdly at her on the next morning.
So, then, Maureen kept it for herself.
She resisted the urge to threw herself to the ground beneath her. Maureen just wanted to know the feeling when her head smacked the pavement. Would it be hurt? Would she lost her memory? Would her bicycle broke? She didn’t know the answer, yet. Sometimes she thought someday she couldn’t hold herself any more and she will ended up in a hospital room.
And, oh, would her friend visited her? Would they brought a lot of biscuit?
Maureen forcefully turned back her glance to the road.
“There’s someone’s blood here, look!”
“What the hell,” Lucy muttered. “It’s kinda disgusting. Who want to scrub their own blood to the wall like that?”
“…well, I don’t know,” Maureen grinned.
“Come on, Maureen, let’s go,”
Maureen stared at Lucy’s back as she walked away from her slowly, and then she glanced at her blood at the wall. Nobody knew how her heart sank when Lucy said that. Maureen thanked her brain to faked her action as someone else’s.
It was disgusting, and that’s the thing that made her stop cutting for fun.
Well, it was really for fun. But it was not any more. Her mind was changed by Lucy’s words. Later, Maureen thought that Lucy’s action was making her slowly going back inside the rabbit’s fur. Everything abnormal was abnormal. No one will grew a pair of wing on their back. No one will cut themselves for fun.
The scar felt itchy on her palm. Maureen punched it with her left hand; if she scratched it, the scar won’t heal as quick as it should be. It was all Lucy’s fault. Maureen liked her too much; she let Lucy slowly poisoned her, made her lose all of her original character, her identity, her true self.
But, then, was curious about pain a good true self? Was her a masochist? Well, Maureen didn’t think so. The masochist part, she mean.
“Come on, Mu,” Lucy stopped when she realized Maureen was not following her. “We need to go, fast.”
“Sorry,” Maureen grinned. “My hand’s itchy.”
Maureen stopped cutting herself completely. Now she did think it was useless and not a useful habit at all. She had the feelings to do it, though. Sometimes when something was bothering her, she remembered about the days when she used to cut for fun, and tried to cut herself again.
Meh, it didn’t work now, fortunately. She will stopped when the razor touch her skin, not letting it dig any deeper. It will left a white lines instead; a harmless line which will appeared if you scratch your too-dry-skin.
She changed the blade to her nails, though. The red lines were not clearly visible, but if she scratch hard enough, the line will swollen a bit. And it was as satisfying as bloody lines she created with blades.
“Maureen, what are you doing?”
“I’m experimenting, Mum.”
“Don’t do that, Maureen, it will hurt later, trust me.”
Maureen studied her now-swollen lines carefully. It was not counted as cutting, right? Well, technically, yes, because who knew her nails break a lot of microscopic cells on her arm? But, people will looked at her as if she only scratch her arm because of mosquito bites. Less abnormal, but felt the same.
She laid down on her bed, enjoying the small burn feelings on her arm. Lucy’s school was too far from hers to stop her again. Nobody would disturb Maureen now.