It was time to let it go. Keep breathing in and out. Breathe in and out. Come on Jackie, let’s do this. As I stood up, in front of a group of other teens similar to me, I realized I was about to let out the hardest thing I've had to overcome in my life. What only my best friend, Stacey, knew parts of. I couldn't even bring myself to tell my parents all the details, even though they found out in another way. Did I really want to reveal my horrid past, all the mistakes I made, and worst of all, go through all the pain I had gone through while living it? Well, I was the only one left. Everyone else in my recovering group had told their story. Now, it’s my turn.
It all started on April 15, 2012. To any other teen, it was just another day that we had to trudge through that prison. Most people know it as school. It would have been a normal day for me, too, if Noah hadn't asked me to spring formal. I guess you can say I was extremely happy. Since he’s been my crush since 3rd grade! I accepted, of course, and carried on through the day, feeling as if I were floating on air. Not a worry was in my head. I came home, and my mom suspected I had had a good day, since I was humming a happy tune and smiling as I came though the door after school.
“Why so happy sweetie?” my mom asked suspiciously.
“Oh it’s nothing important, unless you count getting asked to the spring formal by Noah as important!” I exclaimed, smiling so big I thought my jaw was going to break right off.
“That’s amazing Jackie! We better go to David’s Bridal and go get you a pretty dress!” My mom replied with almost as much excitement as I had myself. So, we left to go find the perfect dress.
After 3 hours of shopping, I finally, I ended up getting a short, blue, glittery dress. I've always been told blue was my color, so I thought it would be perfect. Word got around that Noah and I were going together. I thought everyone was happy for us, I mean, we were both happy; however, there were a few girls who weren't happy, specifically one. Charlie. Charlie was the most popular girl at Brookes High school. She could have any thing she wanted, including any guy she wanted. Except Noah, that is, because he was the only guy who didn't want her. And, unfortunately for her, he was the only guy she actually wanted. So, can you imagine her anger towards me when she found out Noah had asked me to spring formal instead of her? It was not a pretty sight if I do say so myself. No one could even imagine what she was about to do to me.
The day of the dance, my mom and I went to the salon to get my hair done. I had a feeling it was going to be a good day! However, when I got home, that all changed. In my room, my dress was on my bed. It was ripped into shreds. With a note on it saying “Noah’s mine you stealer!” Who else could it have been? I knew straight away it was Charlie. I decided not to go to the dance. When my mom had asked me why I wasn't attending, I had said Noah got sick, and it didn't feel right to go without him. In reality though, I stood Noah up, so we haven’t talked since than. Charlie ruined any chance of me having Noah. She didn’t stop there, though. She had more planned for me to make my life miserable. That’s just how it all started.
“What’s that on your arm Jackie?” Stacey had asked
“Oh, it’s just scars from my cat, Tequila. You know, she’s really hyper!” I had replied nervously.
“They’re so deep, and they look like it hurt a lot!” Stacey stated as she gently stroked my scars. I turned away, ashamed. What kind of best friend am I? I can’t even tell Stacey, my best friend of 7 years, about how I've been taking all my pain out the past 3 weeks. She’s the most important person in my life, I shouldn't be afraid to tell her the truth.
“Actually Stacey,” I began slowly, “th-th-these marks, they’re not from Tequila. They’re from my hand, an-and a blade.” I hung onto my last word. There was an awkward silence after I had let out the truth. It felt like it lasted hours, but in reality, it was only seconds. I ached for her response.
“How long have you been doing this?” Stacey questioned with a serious tone in her voice. I was actually frightened she might just walk out of the room.
“It’s almost been three weeks.” I whispered.
“Hasn't it been three weeks since the dance? Since the dance that Charlie had ruined for you? You’re scaring yourself because of her?! You’re so much better than that Jackie! Why didn't you tell me? I could’ve helped you so you didn't have to scar yourself for life. Those scars are never going to go away, never. What are you going to tell your children when they ask you about them? Huh? Are you going to lie to your children? Say it was from Tequila? I can’t believe you didn't tell me! I tell you everything. You were the person I went to when my parents were going through divorce, you helped me. I could have helped you through this! At least I would try to. I feel like you can’t trust me.” Stacey spat out, while holding back sobs.
“I-I-I just couldn't. I thought you would judge me. I was afraid that if I told you, you wouldn't talk to me ever again. I couldn't risk losing the only person I trusted. Please understand. I've wanted to tell you everything. I wanted to tell you I was on the verge of slicing open my skin, possibly taking away my shameful life. Right when I had picked up the telephone, ready to dial the number I've know by heart for 7 years, yours. Just before I pressed the last 6, I saw my pencil sharpener on my dresser. The way the blade reflected in the light. I saw my tear streaked face in the slim metal. I've seen shows on how it’s suppose to make you feel better. When you see your blood come out, it’s like watching all your pain and sorrow being released from your soul. They were right. I’m in awe watching the pain disappear from my body.” I responded while shaking. Have I just ruined our friendship?
“I don’t care if it’s supposed to make you feel better!” Stacey hollered. “When you’re having those kinds of thoughts, you should've called me right away. When you saw that nasty weapon, which must be more important than me I guess, you should have been stronger, and resisted it. You know how you’re pain is disappearing? Well, I found where it went.” Stacey slapped her hand across her chest. “Here, to me. You may not understand, but maybe if I was found dead one day, from suicide, you’d understand how that pain would go to my best friend who I never told about my problems. How do you think that would make you feel?” I stood, stunned by her response. I thought she might get a little mad, but not to the point were she was talking about suicide!
“Stacey,” but I never had the time to finish; she had walked out the door. Slamming the door shut behind, possibly closing me out from her life forever.
“Okay Jackie, how about we take a five minute break before you finish you’re story, it seems as if you could use a glass of water” Mr. Conner, my support group leader, had interrupted my revealing of why I was here.
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Conner” I truly did appreciate him stopping me. I had just now realized that my whole body was shaking, and my throat was very dry. Also, I had been looking down the whole time I was talking, not looking at any of the others that were in my group. I still hadn't looked up. I was afraid they would have disgusted looks on their faces. However, they were all here for similar reasons I was, weren't they? Come on, Jackie, look up. What was on their faces was hard to read at first. I hadn't gotten looks like that in a very long time. It was the look of understanding. They understand how I felt.
“Ready to continue, Jackie?” Mr. Conner asked without rushing me. I took a big gulp of water, and stood up to finish my story.
I had called Stacey later that night, and thank God she answered.
“I’m so sorry Stacey! I wish I could just go back to that day and have called you instead. Please, I need you more than ever now Stace.” I heard her sigh on the other end. I wondered if it was a good sign.
“Of course I’ll stick with you. I've put up with you and all your crap the past 7 years, I think we can get past this!” Relief filled my heart! Stacey wasn't going to ditch me; she was going to try to help me cope with all if this! What she didn't know, and either did I, it was going to be very hard to get me clean.
I had been clean for one week; my scars had been clearing up, and were barely noticeable. Stacey had been a very big help. She had taken all my blades, tweezers, and anything that could cause me harm. There had a couple times I wanted to cut, but instead of looking for things that could scar me, I called Stacey. We would talk about school, boys, and anything until I felt better again. She was truly my best friend.

However, one day at lunch, it all changed. I had been trying my best to avoid Charlie. Sometimes even my best wasn't enough. I was walking down my normal aisle, to were Stacey was already sitting. Charlie had been walking up the aisle at the same time, so I had stepped aside so she could get through.
“Why’d you do that?” Charlie had asked, with fury in her voice.
“Ju-just so you could get through” I stammered with my head looking at my shoes.
“So, you’re calling me fat? Look at you! You’re eating a cheeseburger for lunch, and you’re the last person who needs it” Charlie had responded. What she did next was unbelievable. I was even shocked when she took my cheeseburger off my tray, put her hands above my head, and twisted my burger, as if it were a wet wash cloth that needed rung. I was watching her face now, as ketchup and mustard went on my head, my face, my backpack, and my shirt. I shoved my tray on the table behind me and ran out of the cafeteria, hearing ripples of laughter behind me.
I scurried downs the halls, avoiding the wondering stares that people gave me as I rushed past them with tears running down my face. I just wanted to be alone. I ran into the bathroom, locking myself into the handicap stall. I wanted to let all this out. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't in case a teacher heard. I had been clean for a week, what if I did it just this once. I grabbed eyebrow razor out of my bag. Just one slit, that’s all.
It had been 30 minutes. I kept on cutting. I cut for all the crap that Charlie had put me through. For Noah not even wondering why I never attended the dance. For Stacey, and how she thought she was so perfect. For every person on this planet, who had made my life a miserable Hell.
I had 15 minutes until lunch was over. I need to dry up all the blood on my arm. It looked as if it belonged though. I missed leashing out my pain. It felt so pleasant. I wanted to do it more, but I knew I had to go to my next class. I cleaned up my wrist, and wiped up the floor with toilet paper. I washed my hands and face, than put on my sweater. I had to think about how to keep these cuts hidden from Stacey.
“Where did you go during lunch Jackie? I would have followed you, but I was busy pouring milk on Charlie!” Stacey told me on the phone later that night.
“Oh, I just went to Mrs. Hooper’s room to see if she needed any help, just to distract me from doing anything bad!” I felt bad about lying, but I couldn't bring myself to say the truth. I had even found a great concealer in my mom’s makeup box that covered my cuts. She would never know. We had talked for a little more about how the principal warned her that pouring milk on Charlie wasn't the answer and how strong I was not to harm myself. If only she knew.
Every day after that, I had gone to the bathroom ten minutes before the bell would ring. Just enough time to cut my wrist, clean it up, put my concealer on, and make it in time for my next class. It worked great for a long time. Sometimes, Stacey would come with me though, and I couldn't. She knew something was up, because on the days she came, I was glum for the rest of the day. She would ask, and I would just say my stomach hurt. She commented one time saying my stomach only hurt the days she came. I joked and said I must be allergic to her. She never said a word about it again, until a few days later, when I was low on concealer.
“Why are you wearing a sweater when it’s 85° outside?” Stacey asked me suspiciously. It was weird, being the only one wearing sweater. Also, I was awfully hot. It wouldn't hurt to take my sweater off. What was I scared of? I had my concealer on and Stacey hadn't known I gone back to cutting. So, I took off my sweater. It wasn't a big deal until later that day.
Charlie and her friend, Marta, sat in front of me in my English class. I had been working on my prepositions worksheet, when I heard a roar of laughter. I looked up, only to wish I hadn't. Almost everyone around me had been staring at me; to be more specific, my wrist. I had looked down, to see that my concealer was wearing off, and my cuts were in clear view of everyone. I wanted to hide. I wanted to scream. I wanted to kill Charlie. More importantly, I wanted to die.
“What’s going on?” Mrs. Duncan asked sharply.
“Oh, nothing’s wrong Mrs. Duncan. I was just reminded of something hilarious, that I wanted to share; nothing to worry about.” Charlie answered calmly. Mrs. Duncan looked as if she didn't believe her, but instead of questioning her, she questioned me.
“Is that true, Jackie?” Mrs. Duncan asked with pleading eyes. She was begging me to tell her the truth. For once, she wanted someone to stand up to Charlie, and not be afraid of her. I wasn't that person though.
“Yes, she had something funny, and we all laughed. May I please use the restroom?” I replied hopefully just as calmly as Charlie had. Furthermore, I didn't need Mrs. Duncan to know I had been cutting myself.
“Sure you can Jackie. Are you alright dear, you look a little pale.” She stated. I didn't answer her though, I had ran out of the room, leaving her the thought I was going to be sick. I ran straight to the bathroom.
I actually ended up getting sick. It must've been how I've barley been eating since Charlie made that comment about how fat I was. I drank apple juice and ate a few crackers for lunch every day since then. I guess you could say I’d gone emo and anorexic. All that was left for me to do was cut my hair short and spiky, than wear black all the time. I was halfway there by wearing gray an awful lot. Either way, I didn't run to the bathroom to empty my stomach, I went there to release the pain.
I had been wearing my favorite sweater that day. It was light gray, with clear sequins which gave it a feminine touch. At least to my dad it did. That’s the reason it was my favorite, it was the last gift he had given me before he died in that awful car crash. It was the most valuable thing I owned. Maybe not money wise, but sentimentally, yes. He was my best friend, the guy I went to for everything. He could have probably helped me through this. Yes, I love Stacey dearly, but he’s a lot easier going and understanding. I wished he was there with me.
Even though I didn't want to risk getting blood on my sweater, I had to. Charlie pushed it way too far. I took the razor outside of my bag, like so many times before. The difference this time though, was that I took a minute just admiring it. Thinking about how many times it saved me. Yes, that sounds weird, but I decided to cut, instead of kill. In a way, it saved my life.
After thinking everything over, I was debating whether I wanted to continuing harming myself. I finally realized why Stacie got so upset. Cutting was gross. Why would anyone want to lose blood? Watching it flow like a river from the thin slits on your body, it’s disturbing from another’s point of view. Then I remembered, that’s from another person’s point of view. I was only focused on my view. That was scarring my body, was the only way to let it out. So, I raised my arm, razor in my hand, and threw my hand down as if it was an axe, and I was cutting a tree. I kept doing that over and over again, watching my teardrops of blood stain the tile floor with my pain.
I had 10 minutes left of English class. I thought I should be heading back to class, or maybe go to the office and continue faking my sickness. I decided to clean up this disastrous mess I’ve caused, even though it’s not even close to how much pain everyone had caused me. I started getting toilet paper to press upon my wrist. I had to grab a lot though, because this time I slit all the way up to my elbow. There was so much blood, I had to go to 3 stalls, use all the toilet paper in the dispenser, and take the extra rolls. When I had 3 minutes left, I was just about done. I just had to put my sweater on, but I had to sit down. I suddenly got light headed, and I started to lose my breath. That was the last thing I had remembered.
“Okay Jackie, let’s take another break. There are refreshments on the table and help yourself for drinks. Jackie, could you come here for a second?” Mr. Conner interrupted me again.
“Sure” I replied.
“Are you sure you want to finish telling us? You don’t have to. I know how hard this must be for you to relive every moment of it.” Mr. Conner asked, with concern in his voice.
“I’ve gotten this far, I have to finish it. I just have to.” I said with determination.
“If that’s what you really want. Come on back kids; let’s have Jackie finish her story.” Mr. Conner had said respectfully, with a tint of a smile on his face. With that simple encouragement, I knew I could finish strong.
When I woke up the next time, my whole body hurt, and I was in an unfamiliar room. “Where am I?” I asked groggily, not to anyone direct, just anyone who could give me an answer. My head hurt so I said it towards the ceiling, not knowing if anyone was even in the room. I heard someone gasp.
“Oh my God, Jackie, you’re back!” It was my mom. I was confused. Where had I gone? Where was I?
“Where am I mom?” I asked, still groggily.
“We’re in a hospital hon.” My mom said with worry in her voice.
“Why are we here? What happened mom?” I asked while trying to look at her, but my head was pounding so I gave up and laid it back down.
“Yo-yo-you passed out in the bathroom. A girl had seen a hand on the floor, so she looked in and found you. There was fresh blood stained on the floor, and it was yours. You had lost a lot of blood and passed out. Also, the doctor said you were getting awfully skinny. What have you been doing and why aren’t you eating Jackie?” My mom asked. I couldn't answer her. I hadn't lost memory; I just didn't feel like telling her the truth.
“I don’t remember” I answered as if I’d forgotten. “Does Stacey know I’m here? I want to talk to her.”
“I’m right her Jackie.” I heard Stacey’s shaky voice.
“Oh Stacey, thanks for coming! It really means a lot. Mom, can we have some time alone?” I asked.
“Oh, of course girls. Do you guys need anything?” My mom wondered. We both said no. Than Stacey arranged my bed so it could have me sitting up and looking at her. Her face was streaked with tears and a pain expression ran across her face. I had to look away.
“Why. All I have to ask is why? I thought you stopped. I guess you didn't. I thought you stopped eating because you wanted to keep your figure, but I thought you still ate complete meals at home. I didn't know you were starving yourself! God Jackie, are you stupid? Do you know what could have happened? I could be speaking at your funeral right now!” Stacey asked, her face reddening. I could tell I have never mad her this mad before.
“I’m sorry.” was all I could manage to get out. I decided to let her finish ranting, than I’d talk. If I just started talking, it’d be like the renaissance; busy and dangerous.
“Are you going to tell me more, or is that it? Maybe I should just leave!” She got up and headed for the door
“No! Please stay” I implored Stacey. She sat back down.
“I didn't want you to find out. I had used concealer to cover up my cutting. I had been cutting again since a week after I've been clean. It helped me more than anything! I stopped eating because Charlie called me fat. I’m always hungry, but I refuse to let myself eat. I ju-just didn’t know what to do!” I was full heartedly crying now. I couldn't help it.
“Oh God Jackie, see what you do? Here,” she came towards me, sat on my bed, than wrapped her arms around my neck. “I’m sorry I got so mad. I shouldn't be making you more stressed; I should be helping you get through this. Nothing matter now besides the fact that you need to get better! Have an idea, which you might disagree with though.” Stacey said. I’m beyond glad she’s not leaving me in the dust, I would have agreed with anything!
“What’s that?” I asked.
That’s how I got here. She wanted me to find a support group. She said her cousin had come here and got great help. So, I can only hope for the same.
“Um, excuse me, sorry I’m a little bit late, I hope you don’t mind.” said a girl who had just enter.
“Sure, come on in and take a seat. What’s your name and why are you here?” Mr. Conner had asked.
“My name is Charlie Smith. I’m here because as a result of getting bullied in my younger years, I’m now a bully.” Only then did I look towards the voice. It couldn't be true, but it was. It was Charlie. The Charlie that made fun of me, which pressured me to cut. I couldn't believe it. We had made eye contact, and it got intense for a moment.
“Jackie, did you have more, or were you finished?” Mr. Conner’s question tore our eye contact.
“Oh, um, yes I’m done. Thank you.” I replied hesitantly.
“So, next week Charlie, would you like to share your story?”
“Sure” replied Charlie.
“Okay class, I’ll see you all next week. Thanks for sharing Jackie.” Mr. Conner threw a smile my way. I grabbed my bag and headed straight for the door, wanting to get out as soon as possible. Slim chance.
“Jackie, wait a minute, please!” I stopped at the sound of Charlie’s voice saying my name. She caught up to me, and we walked out together.
“I’m so sorry for everything I've done to you. I didn't realize it was hurting you this much. If I had known, I would have stopped right away. I can’t believe I was a reason of why you ended up in the hospital. When I heard you were coming to a support group, I thought maybe I should come to; it might help me. I hope you can find it somewhere in your heart to forgive me.” Charlie blubbered. I didn't know how to respond at first. Than I knew exactly what to say.
“You know what Charlie? I might forgive you, I might not. Right now, I’m focused on getting my life back on track. I appreciate your apology, see you tomorrow at school” I replied as I got in my car. I shut the door, and took a deep breath, and smiled. This was just the beginning of the new me.