I thought I was careful. I thought nobody would ever know. I cleaned the floor every time, wiped away every trace, hid the blades where no one could find them. My pain was mine alone, and I wanted to keep it that way... I'm not willing to share or tell anyone yet
But one day, my mom came into the bathroom. She was just there to get a spare bucket. I didn't even know she would come in.... I don't even know why she needed my bucket... There were lots of other buckets in the house. And that's when she saw it. A small stain of blood on the tiles I must have missed.
She stopped. She looked at me.
Her eyes didn't move for a moment, like she knew something wasn't right. She asked quietly, "Are you okay?"...
I froze. My whole chest felt like it would explode. That question, the one I wanted so badly to hear for years, finally came out of her mouth. But instead of feeling loved, I felt angry. I felt like it was too late. Too late to ask now. Too late to notice.... Why did she have to find blood for her to ask if her "daughter" was okay? .... It's too late. Way too late.
So I snapped. I screamed at her.
"Why do you care?!" My voice broke as the tears pushed through. "You don't care about me! You never care!"
I wanted her to fight for me. I wanted her to hold me, to say, I do care, tell me what's wrong, I'm here. But instead, she just stood there for a moment. Then she turned and walked away.... She didn't really care... She just asked cuz she was obligated to after seeing the blood
No words. No hug. No coming back later to ask again.... Nothing. Just silence
She ignored me for the rest of the day.
And that silence… it broke me in a way I can't explain. I felt so rejected, so unwanted. It was like even my pain wasn't enough to make her stay. Even my blood wasn't enough to make her care. She only cared about her new family.... All she wanted was to please them
I sat on the floor and cried until I couldn't breathe. My body shook as I whispered to myself, Nobody knows me. Nobody sees me. Nobody cares... I was worthless.. I wasn't worth the stress... I wasn't worth her asking again... She didn't care if I was dying
Maybe I should just leave. Maybe I shouldn't be here at all.... Maybe I shouldn't even be breathing.... What was the use?
The thought stayed heavy in my mind. But I didn't move. I couldn't. Because as much as I wanted to disappear, some small part of me still wanted her. Some small part of me still ordered myself to stay. To obey. To keep existing in this house that didn't feel like home.... Some part of me still wanted to see her everyday even though I felt unwanted... Some part of me still felt indebted to her.... Even though it was her own choices that brought me to this world, I felt guilty she had to go through all that because of me...
And deep down, I wanted her validation.... I wanted her to tell me it's okay and it wasn't my fault...
So I stayed. Broken. Silent. Hiding my wounds even deeper...