Attraction & Repulsion

1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

I t only took two swipes to satisfy the craving.

The damage was done.

Carson’s vision faded in and out as a hazy memory flickered in her mind: lifting her shirt and pressing a sharp object, the first sharp object she could get her hands on, to her rib cage. The pocketknife had been cold as it made a clean cut, followed by goosebumps texturing her entire body.

Now she was slumped over the oak kitchen table, her long, black hair swept across her face, blindly staring at the gleaming blade in her hand as it mocked her. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and winced as it stretched the fresh cut. The pain felt like ice water being thrown in her face, waking her from the trance and back into reality.

She ran to the toilet to vomit.

After flushing, she sat back against the wall as hot tears burned a path down her cheeks. Once again she had succumbed to a catatonic state where she numbly sabotaged her body. She hated the self-harm, she feared it, yet she still mutilated her body and, worse, liked it? Even desired it at times. The way the blade sliced through her fragile skin, leaving mark after mark after mark, was pleasure. It was agony.

The self-disgust continued to rage within Carson as she picked herself up off the floor and rummaged around for the first-aid kit in the cabinet under the sink, where she had tossed it the last time. Mechanically, she cleaned the drying blood that had trickled down her stomach, applied ointment, and secured a bandage—a ritual carried out by muscle memory.

Shoving the kit back under the sink, she grabbed her phone sitting on the bathroom counter. Three new messages sat patiently on her screen, all from Raegan.

How are you doing today? Been thinking about you all morning.

What are you wearing to the softball tournament? It's supposed to rain. UGH.

Hunter left already. I might be late. If you're there before me, find us a place to sit.

Carson typed a thumbs up, then leaned on the counter to stare at herself in the mirror. Under her emerald eyes were dark shadows, a contrast against her pale skin. What would Raegan, her best friend, say if she found out her secret? Her stomach turned once more at the pathetic humiliation of being a woman in her thirties who cuts her skin on purpose. She had lost all control of her mind, of the body that betrayed her five years ago.

What had become of her?

This monologue would play in her head on repeat, over and over, always ending with a seemingly simple answer: just stop cutting.

Ignoring the familiar stinging on her side, Carson wrapped her arms around her chest. She could just stop. If only she wanted to.