It Hurt Itself In Confusion Novels & Stories

The frustration boiled over into a dark energy. I raised my hand and slammed my against against my own temple, once, twice. "Stupid! Just work!" I hissed at my own brain. "Ginny, stop!" Jules cried out, her eyes wide with terror. I felt the stinging heat on my cheek where my mother had hit me, and the self-loathing took over. I raised my hand and slapped myself hard right on the same spot. And then I did it again, I hit myself so hard my head barked with pain, and I knew instantly it would bruise.

“Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” Melissa repeatedly hit her head against the soft fluffy pillow, once she was in the comfort of her room. How can she be so dumb and ignore the warning Kaden gave her! “What did I just do, ahhh!!” she screamed in the pillow then continued hitting herself hoping that her empty brain would gain some sense but it was a useless thing to do because the damage had already been done. If she had hit herself with the pillow minutes before she confessed everything, then it would have made some sense but now?

I just needed to get upstairs quickly and find somewhere to recover from this embarrassment. But in my haste, I managed to stub my toe on the staircase I climbed every day. The pain shot straight to my brain. I instinctively crouched down, all thoughts of embarrassment forgotten. It hurt so bad! Ugh! Shit! I made a fool of myself in front of him again.

I wanted to tear the silence apart and let all this buried ache spill out onto the pavement. Because it hurts. It hurt knowing that he knew exactly what he was doing back then. That he was fully aware, fully conscious, fully capable of stopping and he still chose to hurt me. And now he wanted me back. I shut my eyes, "fuck!" I cursed in my mind. After I walked away. After I gathered every broken piece of myself and decided I deserved better. I'm confused, right? It's not my fault, right now I feel like a walking contradiction.

If any other person were in my place, they would have killed themselves so why wasn’t I dead? Because I was still fighting. Though unknowingly, I was still fighting. I had fallen down but somewhere deep inside me, I knew that I hadn’t given up. Giving up meant losing but I was just taking a break, wasn’t I? “Why would you do that?” He sounded so defeated that it hurt me. I was feeling conflicted. Why was I hurt for him knowing how he had fooled me? “Because the only time you pay attention to me is when I harm myself somehow.” I muttered, angling my neck to look at the arm that was covered in white bandages.

I shoved my fingers into my hair, dragging them back again and again, nails scraping against my scalp as if pain might burn the chaos out of my head. My thoughts refused to line up. They collided, tangled, screamed at once—until I lost control completely and slammed my fist down onto the desk. The impact rattled through my arm. For a split second, I wasn’t even sure what I was trying to accomplish. Maybe I wanted to hurt myself. Maybe I just wanted to see something break.

“Hey, mummy…” “No.” I scrambled back, yanking the blanket over myself like armor. Legs trembling. “No. No no no—this is a mistake. This whole fucking night was a mistake.” His face crumpled — confusion → hurt → something rawer. “Did I… do it wrong?” He reached out — tentative. “Was it too much? Did I hurt you? Tell me what I did—”

I want to remember the whole incident but as I force my head to remember that thing it hurts. "Fuck, why am I suddenly confused now?" I asked the air. I shook my head. It's a bad idea! He made me think about uncertain things. He is a nightmare wearing a cloth of a daydream.

~Ioana~ He dropped those words, snuffing out the flame within me. Speechless, what else could I say? Confusion swirled like a tornado in my head, wrecking havoc. A havoc that he never bothered to correct. He walked away, leaving a cold broad back which once protected me, igniting things that shouldn't have been within me. I collapsed on the bed, shielding my face with my arm, Coiling in on myself, arms wrapped around my legs, pulling them inward and head resting on my knees.

Languidly, I move my head to negate his words, permitting my heavy lids to shut as I mutter, “No, Vyin...I don’t care what it is you are, nor what people paint you as...I want to believe in who you are in front of me and who you are within yourself” I must be crazy to still hold so strongly to my belief after all that’s happened. Once again, this beast has bitten me, injured my being, and yet...is it because each time he hurts me, he comes back to lick the wounds away? Ah, I’m losing my mind for sure.