Haunting Words

Voices. Voices everywhere.
" Make them stop! Make them stop."?I don’t have the willpower. I don’t have the strength. He had gotten too far into my head. Now, I couldn’t get him out. If only he knew how much words ­ his words ­ could hurt me. Now, it was his voice, stuck in my head. 
This boy in my class, Freddy, constantly ignored me. He used to be one of the sweetest kids I knew. He started to spend time only with his posse. We used to have a very close friendship. It was so real and sincere. Now, though, he doesn’t even approach me without sneering. Which is why that one time he left his group and began to walk towards me, I was overjoyed.
“Thanks for finally acknowledging my existence,” I told him. “I miss you so much.”
“Yeah, I can tell, you creeper. You always stalk me in the halls. Lay off!”
“Wait, what?” I asked.
“Oh I’m sorry, the little baby doesn’t understand. Does she need her mommy to come and help her out? Don’t act like you don’t always stare at me.”
“Why don’t you just go away so you don’t have to talk to somebody so far below your popularity?” I yelled.
“Why don’t you just kill yourself so I won’t have to anymore?” The words ricocheted through my brain. They stabbed it, without relent. For a day or two, I tried to ignore this rude comment, but now, I was beginning to agree with it. What do I have to live for? My parents who treat me like a complete baby? My friends that I don’t even have?
In a trance, I walked into the kitchen. Now I held a knife. "No, no no!" I yelled so loud in my head that I thought it would wake up my parents.
They began to get louder. The knife was luring me in.
"Stop!” I told the voice. “Right now!" I hadn’t let the voices affect me for over awhile. Now, it was just too much for me to handle
Finally, I could take it no longer. All the stress was released from my body. The voices abruptly stopped.
This can’t happen again, I tell myself. I always say that, but still haven’t stopped.
Just as the blood from the fresh slice in my arm was about to drip down to the white tile floor, I sucked it away. The sweet yet metallic taste took over my mouth.
Once before, I had let the blood drip. It fell to the floor and left a rust-colored stain. I knew if Mom and Dad saw, they wouldn’t understand. They would jump to conclusions and think there was some kid forcing me to hurt myself. They wouldn’t think I, as their perfect, innocent child would ever take something so dumb so seriously. With such a "perfect" life they gave me, I should never even consider doing anything harmful to myself.
If only they knew what was going on in my head. It wasn’t only this kid that contributed to the voices and my actions ­ it was my parents, too too. They tried to treat me special so I could know they loved me. The perfect little world they made for me wasn’t to my fancy. They didn’t let me take the train to school. They didn’t let me do anything I wanted. They want me to stay protected and free from danger. When they die, what do they expect me to do? They do everything for me, so I wouldn’t know how to handle myself.. I’ll always be their daughter; they don’t need to treat me like a toddler. They thought I had everything perfect. If only they knew just how wrong they were. Society has changed a lot since they were kids. Being known as that girl whose daddy drives her and walks her everywhere is unbearable. They act like I’m a kindergartener, and…
There isn’t much I can do now, other than to keep doing what I do to take away my pain and fear. My parents would freak out if they knew that their precious child cut herself. If I ignored all the pain inside of me, there would be no way for anybody to figure it out. I guess I do this in hope of somebody finding out. Are the physical scars themselves more detrimental, or are the things in my mind? Without harming myself physically, my brain might explode. What I hide from others - what I keep inside – hurts me the most.