Girl With A Cotton Pillow

She kept looking at her left carven wrist. The eight year old embellishment is never a proud memory to recall at. Her knowledge of the veins wiring from all over her system is enough to give her a disturbing idea of seeing herself, back slump against a wall, legs sprawl lifelessly on the floor, thick crimson liquid running wildly yet painfully out of the intended opening. But she had never really wished for that. All she wanted to do is to learn, how exactly will her parents reacted over such scene. Will they blame themselves? Or will they take it for granted? Exactly.

So she took one of the teethy ordinary looking machine, one that her mother rarely used. She knew the prying eyes in the house were out to god-knows-where, her hands trembled as she reached for the said tool, then came back into her dark musty lair. The only place for her refuge of her parents' antics and the cruel blizzards of the society's tongues. Back on her old creaking bed, it hardly ever console her. It never retain her from having dreams, which sometimes make her suffocates whenever she wakes up. But there's one thing she always loved so much. A pillow. A pillow contains the memory of her dead grandmother. Oh how she loved her, her smile so beautiful it soothes every eyes that fell onto her. How she like to sit herself on her grandmother's lap and fell asleep.

With those memories flooding her mind, the words of her parents the other day took place so sudden. It was terribly painful. What had gotten into them to suddenly lashing out their frustration at her? What had she done to receive such words? Slapping her own cheek she moved onto the tool on her right hand. Still playing those painful moments she started to move the machine to all sorts of directions on her skin that she could think off. Biting her lower lips from the pain, blood drew oh so flawlessly from the cut. But then she thought, this wasn't enough to drive her parents' mad. Yeah. A simple, firm horizontal move on the artery, yeah, the left artery will definitely do the job. Alarmingly she smiled of such thought. Yeah, just a little...

Wildly shaking her head, she snapped out of the dream. The cotton pillow clung tightly between the her her hands and her ragged chest, pumping in and out from the lack of oxygen. No. It seemed more like a lost old memory. No. She would never do that. And her parents are nice people. Sure, they weren't perfect but they would never harm their children. Nah, just a dream. Searching for an assurance, she takes a peek at her left wrist hidden beneath the pillow. No, no, no. This can't be true. It was just a dream. She will never do such an act. No!

Yet, an embossed part of her skin that appears like a straight line across her wrist barely 2mm looks perfectly visible to her eyes.

a/n: Peh~ agak2 aku ade bakat jadi author tak? Haha. Cereka di atas adalah rekaan semata2. Aku dalam keadaan stress so satu2nya cara untuk aku bertenang adelah dengan menulis. :)