Page 140 of Loving the Liar

I have never felt a betrayal like this, so heart wrenching. It was one thing when he broke up with me to move on, and I was stupid enough to stay around for him to hurt me and manipulate…but to the lengths he did? This is a deception I can’t handle.

Is this all I’m good for? Lies and schemes?

I push the door to my ensuite bathroom and fall to my knees in front of the cabinet under the sink.

Am I only worth something if I’m the dumb, clueless girl who can be controlled?

I reach for the box of razors, my hands fiddling with the plastic wrapped around it.

I’ve only ever been surrounded by men who exploit me one way or another. And when I want to hide from one, it’s in the arms of another who is worse.

A smile reaches my face when I finally pinch the blade between my fingers. I don’t even know when I got rid of my jeans. I’m only wearing a white cardigan on the floor of my bathroom, and I find it weirdly satisfying that it’ll soon be soaked in blood.

I’ll lie down in it and smell the copper tang in the room. And I’ll embrace the pain when I close my eyes.

I cut a first line, the same usual pinch of a surface wound. It’s not much, just a short release of pain. But I can finally take a full breath. So I do it again, adding to the collection of thin white scars on my thigh.

A moan of relief escapes me. It feels too good not to cry, so I let more tears fall as my lips part.

My chest can finally expand when I press deeper, and I throw my head back, crying out as my mind alleviates. I’m slightly lightheaded when I look down at my right thigh again, and I press my fingertips on the three new cuts. The deeper one sends a wave of dizziness through me, my stomach twisting.

I like it.

So I make another one just as deep.

Four. I smirk. That’s a record. It feels heavenly.

“Ella.”

I shriek as my body jolts so hard my ass leaves the floor and crashes back down.

Chris’s eyes are wide, his gaze stuck on my leg, on the blood dripping down, and on my white sleeves. I didn’t hear him come in. All I could hear was the steady beat of my heart as beautiful pain ran through me.

“Ella, baby…” His face pales as reality hits him.

Falling to his knees in front of me, he takes the blade from my hand. “What are you doing?” he croaks.

He presses a hand on my leg, and I start shaking from shame. This is mine. My secret, my coping mechanism. And no one is allowed to know about it. A strange giggle leaves me, and I look past him.

It’s like the world loses color and sound when I dissociate. I know I’m here, but my soul isn’t.

“Don’t,” he says sternly. “Come back.”

How does he even know?

“How could you do this to me? How could I believe you when you gave me that stupid excuse,” he implores, his voice so desperate for understanding. He kisses my forehead. “Come back.” My cheeks. My lips. “When did this start? You didn’t have those scars in high school.”

How could he do this to me?

“I don’t know,” I repeat in a whisper. “It started after the breakup. Or maybe when things got worse with my dad. The parties. I’m dumb. He sais I was so stupid. I’m stupid. I don’t know… I hate you.”

I blink slowly, my strength not so present anymore. I feel dizzy.

“I know everything,” I croak. “Everything.”

“Sweets.” When I open my eyes, he’s standing in front of me, his black shirt gone. “You know nothing.”

“I know what you did,” I say on a choked breath. Nothing is real, is it? Nothing feels real.

---