Page 3 of Falling Hard

Chapter 1

Emmie

Suffocated, drowning and possibly ripping the life from my lungs, was how I felt as I picked up the razor. My demons were encouraging the need to use it.

The words “You’re nothing but a burden, you’re nothing but a bother, you are nothing” were being chanted in my head, and themore the demons spoke to me, the more I began to believe them.

I quickly grabbed my art book and started using proactive strategies, so I didn’t act. I thought I was getting somewhere too until I caught sight of movement out the window.

Paranoia gripped me. Oh, no, not again. I swear I saw someone press their face against the window.

I jumped off my bed and backed toward the door, my eyes on the outline of the face. My hand went behind me and opened the door, and then I was running down the hall, my heart pumping fear through my blood.

“Dad!” I roared as I reached his room. I banged on the door before bursting in. My eyes scanned the room and saw Dad under a half-naked woman in his king-sized bed. Sadly, this wasn’t the first time this had happened. I was six when I first walked in on Dad having sex, so I ended up getting the sex talk younger than the normally acceptable age. Dad never did anything when expected. It was fair to say I was traumatized but not enough to learn my lesson and knock each time.

Dad shot me an annoyed look. Once again, I had interrupted him, but he wasn’t surprised and didn’t immediately push the woman, whose face I couldn’t see clearly, off.

Dad normally never drank heavily, but last night was a weekend party, so he had a few, more than a few by the look of him—his short, peppered hair was a mess as he glared at me.

“What, Emmie?” His words were slicing, letting me know he was pissed off, but there was a more pressing matter on my hands.

“There’s someone at my window!” My voice echoed the fear I currently felt. Every time I saw the man’s face, my fear increased, and I was now desperate, begging anyone to acknowledge what I was seeing was real. Trying to get my dad to understand wasn’t an easy task.

It didn’t help that I had ‘voices’ or audio hallucinations. When the voices came, I knew—they whispered in my ear, became demanding and the anxiety built as they increased, making me question everything I saw and heard. They always managed to cause doubt in my head, but this time, I knew I wasn’t hallucinating! Someone was watching me! It just felt different.

Dad immediately rolled his eyes.

“I know I keep saying someone is watching me, but it’s true. I saw—”

“I don’t have fucking time for your mind crap, girly!” he roared, waking up anyone who was sleeping on this side of the building. Pushing the girl off him as he sat up, Dad made sure he kept himself covered as he ran his hands through his hair. He then froze and looked at me.

His words caught me off guard, leaving me speechless.He didn’t just say that… I watched as he exhaled sharply and saw the regret on his face as soon as the words he’d spoken aloud registered

Before he could say another word, I spun around and rushed back to my bedroom, his words repeating in my head.

I’d always had a nagging feeling that my hallucinations were starting to push him to his limits and he was starting to lose patience with me, but that was the first time he had ever said it aloud. His words kept replaying over and over in my head, getting louder and louder,mind crap,mind crap,mind crap,mind crap. I clenched my eyes shut as I rounded the corner, slamming straight into Maiden.Fuck.

He was quick to grab my shoulders, catching me before I could fall. Seriously, out of all people, I had to run into him?

“Emmie, is everything okay?” He looked concerned, but I was thankful he hadn’t heard what Dad had just said. If he had…

I shivered and shook my head as tears ran down my face, ruining the normally flawless makeup that I put on as a mask to cover how I really felt. My violet hair, which was usually dead straight and perfect, was curly and looked how I felt, drained and tired. And now, thanks to Dad’s words, sadness was boiling up inside, causing me to have no control over my tears, which only made matters worse because I hated crying where anyone could see me. Showing weakness was difficult, but I couldn't control the tears as they continued to fall.

“I’ll be fine,” I muttered, brushing past Maiden, only to be stopped as his strong hand latched onto my arm.

“Emmie, tell me what’s wrong,” he asked. He placed his hand on my cheek softly and used the rough pad of his thumb to wipe the tears from my face, causing me to gasp as goose bumps covered my skin.

Biting my lip, I looked away.

“I’m fine, Maiden, honest, it was just a bad dream, that’s all,” I muttered, using an excuse only a six-year-old would get away with. Yanking my arm out of his grasp, I ran back to my room.

Closing and locking my bedroom door, I looked to the bathroom. Maybe my father was right, and I just saw things. Maybe I was going crazy. Slowly, I walked toward the bathroom as if I were on autopilot. I knew I shouldn’t and that I was stronger, but it didn’t stop me from picking up the razor. The devil was knocking on my walls, telling me I needed to escape, that this was the only solution. As the razor went to my thigh, my eyes moved to the mirror, and I saw the desperation in my eyes. I immediately dropped the blade into the sink before sinking down to my knees and crying. I had my father’s eyes, which was that reason I sank to the floor.

No matter how bad it got, I couldn’t do it to my father. I couldn’t let him discover my body in a bathroom, and not just any bathroom, but one he’d personally designed for me and even imported a few of the features.

The worthlessness and blinding hatred I felt for myself consumed every blood vessel in my body.

I just couldn’t keep going, and it was that one line that had me reaching for the razor again. I just needed to release some of the hate that ate at me. As I slashed the razor across my thigh, I felt relief as the demons were bled from me. They got what they wanted, but so did I. I got to feel peace, and it lasted one moment until I had to slash again. Each time, relief flooded me and was then followed by guilt and disappointment in myself. I knew I was slipping back, but as much as I wanted to pick myself up and say I could face another day, I knew I was no superhero. I was a broken woman with a tainted soul, one whose demons filled my thoughts with poison.

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