Ya Story Emily S Valentine Self Harm Young Adult Mag

Original author: Paul F.

                                                     


Emily looked at her left forearm as tears streamed from her eyes. Blood trickled from the cut she had sliced there with her dad’s razor.

 

Did you enjoy this article? Leave a comment below! And check out all of the great new content from YA Magazine on young adult books, top teen novels, young adult TV shows, movie casting news, young adult literature, and more!  Follow us on TwitterFacebook, and Instagram.

Emily closed her eyes, blocking out the blood, the bathroom, and the world as best she could.

It was Valentine’s Day and Emily knew what the day would bring.

Emily was fourteen years old. She was a bright, intelligent and pleasant.  She had good, caring parents and a best friend she had known since second grade.  She made good grades and seemed like an emotionally healthy child.

Seemed like it.

On the inside, she was full of pain, hurt, tears, sadness, and grief.  She hid those paths into her heart well, but at times, when she felt overwhelmed, she escaped to cut herself.

She had been cutting herself since her grandmother passed away, last Valentine’s Day.  The pain of the cut was better than the pain she felt inside.  By cutting, it was as if she was transferring her emotional pain to physical pain.

Physical pain could die away for a little while in the blood that came from the cuts.  Emotional pain was a lot harder to process.

Emily whispered, “It’s been a year.  I miss you so much, Granny.  Hurt so much without you here.”

Emily saw her grandmother appear before her eyes like a beautiful angel, smiling, with arms spread out wide.  Warm love emanated from her, a welcoming promise that everything would be okay.

Emily begged, “Why did you have to die?”

Emily’s eyes slowly opened.

It was her fault her grandmother died.  If only she had gone downstairs earlier instead of being up in her room doing homework.  If only she had called 911 more quickly.

“If only I had been with her,” Emily cried to herself. “It’s my fault.”

Her eyes went to the shaving razor again.  She had never cut herself twice in the same day, but her hand reached out, trembling, desperate, and grabbed the blade.

“If only,” Emily cried and cut herself again.  She dropped the shaving razor to the floor and cried.

Her eyes stared at a homemade Valentine’s Day card her mother had put the card on the bathroom mirror.  Her little brother had made it for their mom.  The card had little dancing hearts with smiling faces pointing to a little kid hugging his mother.

Emily held her bleeding arm over the bathroom sink as she stared at the card.  She remembered the homemade Valentine she had made her grandmother a year ago.

She had put a lot of time and love into making the card.  Right before she went upstairs to do her homework, she gave her grandmother the card.

When she had come back downstairs to get a snack, she saw her grandmother lying on the living room floor, unconscious.  The Valentine’s Day card she had made was on the floor next to her grandmother.

The card read:

To my Granny, who I love with all my heart,

I know this is simple, but I don’t know how to say it any other way. Happy Valentine’s Day, Granny!

Love, Emily

When she returned from the hospital later, Emily found the card on the living room floor.  The paramedics had stepped on the paper, accidentally tearing it when they rushed inside.  In a daze of disbelief, she carefully picked it up, put the card into her pocket and went deep inside of herself.

And now, as she stood holding her arm over the bathroom sink, she pulled the old card out of her pocket with her free arm.  The card had a beautiful sunset over a grandmother holding her granddaughter’s hand while they walked on a beach together.

“I remember when we walked on the beach together, Granny.”

Tears dripped onto the card.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. Emily jumped with surprise.  She dropped the card.

“Emily?  Honey, are you okay?”  It was her mother.  “You’ve been in there a while.”

She’d thought her mother had left for work and only her dad was home, who never rushed her in the bathroom.  Panic and alarm pulsed through her.

Emily grabbed toilet paper and began wiping at her two cuts.  Blood stained the sink.  She turned on the faucet to try to wash the blood down.

“Hurry,” she begged.

Emily spun in panic as the bathroom door opened.

Her mother stepped in then froze.  Horror spread across her face. She barely managed to whisper Emily’s name.

Emily stared her mother in wide-eyed panic.  She dropped her gaze down to the card.

Something happened then.  All of the panic she felt drained from her.  She looked up into her mother’s eyes, pleading, then rushed to her.  Emily clasped her arms around her mother’s waist, holding her tightly.

Emily cried like she had never cried before.  “It was my fault, Momma!  My fault!  Oh please, I don’t won’t to hurt anymore.  Make it stop.  Please!”

Emily’s mother knelt down, holding her daughter in her arms.  She said in a voice soft and soothing, “It’s okay, honey.  Cry it out. I’m here.  Momma’s here now.”

Emily’s dad appeared in the doorway.  He immediately saw the blood, his shaving razor, and then her crying in her mother’s arms.

He asked in a shaky voice, “What happened?”

Emily looked at her dad. “Don’t be mad at me, Daddy, please…”

Emily’s dad knelt and took her from her mother.  He held her in his arms. “Mad?  Why would I be mad?”

“I was upstairs doing my homework,” Emily explained.  “If I had come downstairs sooner, Granny would still be alive…  It’s all my fault.  My fault.  I hate myself!”

Emily choked on her sobs.

Emily’s dad pulled her tighter into his arms.  “Daddy’s here,” he said, the sound soothing her.  “Daddy’s here.”

“Don’t be mad at me,” Emily said.  She pressed her face to his shirt.  “For cutting myself.  It… made the pain go away for a little bit. I didn’t mean to cut myself, Daddy.  Don’t be mad.”

Emily’s dad looked down at the shaving razor. “I’m not mad,” he said.  “Oh no, I could never be mad.”

Emily’s mother gently stroked her hair.  Emily’s mother said in a loving voice, “Honey, we’re here now.  It’s over, okay?  Nothing was your fault.”

“It is my fault.  I was upstairs doing my homework and Granny had a heart attack.”

Emily’s mother wet a washcloth, sat Emily down on the edge of the bathtub, and tended to her cut arm.  Her dad washed the sink and put away the shaving razor.

Her mother said, “Honey, your granny… no one knew. It… just happened.”

“I should have known,” Emily cried.  “I was her best friend.  We shared everything.”

Emily’s eyes went down to the card.

“Daddy… Can I have granny’s card?”

Emily’s dad and handed the card to her.  Emily hugged the card.  She caught him staring, watching, as though he was trying to think of something soothing, helpful, wise, but all he could manage was, “You’re grandmother loved you very much.”

Emily looked up into her dad’s loving eyes. “I miss her so much.”

A tear slid from her father’s eye.  He knelt down to take his daughter’s trembling hands into his own.

He said, “In time… It will take time.  But your mom and I will be here with you every step of the way.”

“Why did she have to die?” Emily asked in a desperate whisper. “I… was just doing my homework.  Why did she have to die?”

“There are no real answers,” her mother told her.  She carefully tended to the cuts on her daughter’s arm.  The cuts were deep and ugly.

Emily almost wanted to pull away, before her mother could see the scars from the other cuts.  She didn’t want her mother knowing how badly she had been hurting, blaming and punishing herself.  But she needed someone to know.

Her mother said, “So today we’ll take the first step to healing these cuts and the pain.”

“But she’s gone.  How can I ever heal?  How will the pain ever stop?” Emily cried, “I just hate myself so much!”

“You can’t blame yourself, Em,” her dad said gently.  “That’s the first part.  Your grandmother was so proud of you.  What a good girl you are, how good your grades always are.  How you’re growing up to be such a beautiful, loving young lady.  You were doing something that made her proud when she had her heart attack.  If you love your grandmother—and we know you do—then you have to stop blaming yourself.”

“How?”

Emily’s dad took the Valentine’s Day card gently from her hand.

He said, “By knowing that love never dies.”

Emily bowed her head and cried.

She said, “I miss you. so much, Granny.  So much… Please forgive me for not being there when you needed me.  But you’re here for me now.  Happy Valentine’s Day, Granny.  I promise, someday, I’ll make you another Valentine’s Day card again with all my heart.”


 

Previous article

Happening Around The Web

Next article

The Ya Must List