Photo by Rukiye Tasci Photography
Reflection by Melissa St. Pierre
Seeing the scars forming on her arm brought tears to my eyes. The lines of clotted blood stared back at me. Unable to breath I could feel myself becoming light headed. After snapping out of my coma like state, I could hear Jennifer, our youngest sister, begin to cry.
“How could you, I mean why would you?” As I sputtered out the words, the scars on my own arm started to burn.
It had been weeks since the last cut on my own arm was made, but it hurt more than ever as I saw the pain in Jennifer’s eyes deepen. She stared at me lifeless.
“Carrie, why?” As I pleaded with her, the tears fell from my eyes and rolled down my chin. She pushed off the bed and grabbed her hoodie from the dresser. She repositioned herself on the edge of the bed, and forced it over her head.
Her thick black hair fell in her face and she made no effort to move it. I could feel her eyes piercing through her hair and staring at my own. Jennifer grabbed my hand and squeezed it tight. I couldn’t look at her, even though I knew she was looking at me to comfort her.
I knew she knew it was my fault that Carrie was hurting herself. I thought that I covered mine up well enough that they wouldn’t see them.
“I think you know why I did it, Melissa.” Her monotone voice pulled me out of my own head and focused my attention to my sister holding my hand. I forced myself to look at her. She looked desperate and confused.
“Jay I think you should leave.”
“Okay.” I let her hand go and kissed her head as she creeped out of the room.
“What do you mean I know why? How would I know what’s going on in your head?” Carrie’s eyes shifted to my arm and back to my face. My stomach dropped and I couldn’t speak again. I knew that was the reason but couldn’t admit it.
“Okay, Carrie, but that doesn’t explain why.”
“Well, Melissa when I see my big sister hurting herself, it makes me wonder why she did it, so I tried it. And you know what? I really enjoyed it, so just leave me alone.”
Without saying another word, I walked out of the room. My stomach turned as I thought of the scars that were twice as bad as my own. How could I let my little sister, the one I’m supposed to protect no matter what, do something like that to herself?
I walked back to my room and grabbed the razor out of the top drawer of my of my desk. I sat on my bed and took a deep breath, the tears stopped falling from my eyes as the red tears started to fall from my arm.
© Melissa St. Pierre, 2011.