I’ve pretty much always turned to violence for comfort. When I was younger I used to wind my brother up so he would hurt me. I didn’t know at the time that it was SI but it all makes sense now.
I believe it’s always best to start a story from the beginning, so I will.
I had a pretty ‘normal’ childhood, if there is such thing as normal, my mum and dad divorced when I was seven, and I never saw my dad much after that up until recently. When I was eight, me and my cousin were playing in the back room at my granddad’s house, and we found letters and pictures of him, they weren’t nice, he was dressed as a woman, and the letters talked of him engaging in sex acts with other men. I have nothing against gay or bisexual people, as I am bi myself, but when it is your own granddad and he is married it’s all kind of weird.
This was the start of my problems, this played on my mind because I treated him weirdly and then he died, I never got to say goodbye, or sorry for that matter. Whilst all of this was going on, my gran (she was ninety-two at the time) was diagnosed with cancer of the blood, there was nothing they could do for her, I was heartbroken. My gran and I had always been close, and when she died, that was the first time I cut.
I didn’t mean to do it, I was making a sandwich and I slipped and the knife tip went into my shoulder a little, the blood ran, my mind flew, it was amazing, the rush, the energy. I took the knife and I hid it, but soon it became blunt, I needed something new, hence how I discovered razor blades.
Then when I turned thirteen the worst thing happened to me, I was walking through a forest on the way to my friends, and I noticed six teenage boys following me, I walked faster but they caught up with me, it doesn’t take a genius to work out what happened to me next. After they finished, they ran off, I stood up shaking and crying, walked over to a small cliff, beneath me was a rocky shallow stream. I jumped, I hoped I would hit my head and die, but I didn’t, instead I broke my ankle and had to hobble to my friends. I told them I had fallen into the stream, nothing about the boys, I never told anyone bar a few close friends.
In the next few months when I was getting my confidence back, I met a guy who I will not name. At first he made me feel great and I thought I loved him, he was a lot older than me, but then the truth became known to me. He used to beat me, and force me into things, his abuse lasted about six months and I put up with it simply because I thought he loved me too. Everything became too much for me and I left him, he beat me up for it, but it was worth it.
I stayed single for a while to let the dust settle, but it just made things worse, I had time to think of what had happened to me, and it dragged me into a pit of depression and suicide attempts… and not to mention my old friends, the blades.
Once my life had returned to some sort of normality, I met another guy who will remain nameless, he was always nice to me, but then he got me pregnant, I got moody and he threw me into a door, I lost the baby. He didn’t even know I was pregnant.
This led to yet more suicide attempts and cutting, but no one even noticed, no one noticed me waking up screaming, crying myself back to sleep, and if that didn’t work I would just cut.
Somewhere between all of this happening, I developed hallucinations, one major one, she’s an American girl, about sixteen I would say, she has long messy black hair, she always wears a white nightgown, always bare feet, and those evil dark sadistic eyes, she’s called Charlotte. She used to hurt me, mentally, she would scream at me until I cried, and then cut, and then she would cut. She always cuts deeper than me, the blood would pour from her wrists, as if she was urging me to do the same. So I did, I cut a vein, two weeks later I did it again.
Then came the succession of failed relationships, heartache, hurt, pain and mistrust, everyone I went out with cheated on me.
Then things got worse again, I developed another major hallucination, Lucifer, he claims to be the son of the devil and a vampire. He has a pale complexion, longish dark hair, black clothes. He is violent, at first he used to follow me, silent, always watching though. Then he started speaking to me, and then he got violent. I remember once, I was at my current boyfriend’s father’s, Lucifer was hovering above me with a knife, he was going to kill me. I lay there trembling and my boyfriend calmed me down. Lucifer went. That was the last time he attacked me, I have seen him since but he hasn’t spoken, I still see and talk to Charlotte.
And that leads us up to now. I had pretty much stopped cutting, but then a stupid decision got me back into it, pretty much worse than ever, when I cut, I cut more, more blood, more pain, more scars. I keep hitting myself too. I’m sick of hurting myself, but I can’t see a way out.
If you would like to talk to me my AIM is