My name is Audrey, I’m 16 years old. I was abused as a child by my Aunt, at the tender age of 5 years old, I was sent to live with her for a few months which turned into about a year, when my parents were fighting and considering divorce, although things worked out between them both, they decided I should stay with my Aunt since they both worked and no one could care for me during the day. My Aunt had this crazy idea to sign me up for beauty pageants, she would sew me dresses, make-up, and hair spray on a five year old. I lost all of three of them, every time she would beat me. She broke hair brushes over my head, and threw hairspray at me. Ever since then I have had the impression of the word “ugly” burned into my brain. If you saw my thighs, they are carved into hundreds of words, most of them say, “Whore” or “Ugly.” Names of boys who I’ve slept with or loved, “Philip” “Lee” “Jake” “Brandon”… Brandon, he is the one who triggered me before he moved, he was my boyfriend for 3 years off and on, he used me to traffic cocaine, and he beat me up a lot. He sent me to the ER once, they gave me anti-biotics and I went home. My best friend Brent killed himself April 8th, 2003 after struggling with the death of his girlfriend, along with family and self-injury issues. Sometimes when I smoke cigarettes I put them out on my arms. I’m lonely and empty, and cutting helps fill the space. I’ve slashed my wrists countless times, and I’ve tried to drown myself in my own bathtub. I don’t know if cutting really solves anything, but it makes me feel better, it’s like a drug, addicting, and it makes you feel better about yourself. I don’t think I will ever stop.
I have been cutting for almost five years now and find that it is very hard for me to stop. I feel such a release that I can barely stand it. I have razor blades that I have taken off of razors ahead of time in case I need them. The feeling of having something sharp run across your skin and watching the blood drip is such a heady feeling. I can barely breathe when I feel the euphoria of the pain. I shiver even now contemplating cutting and releasing all that has built up over the day. I need this pain like a smoker needs cigarettes. I want to stop, the scars are beginning to build up on themselves, but I don’t know just what to do. I build up my will to not cut, and then the need gets greater and greater until I can’t take it anymore. I need help, but no one understands me where I am.