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The feel of nails under teeth. Though, nails is stretching it, as she had practically bit them all off. Yet she continues. It… hurts. Just a bit, nothing too bad, yet she can't bring herself to stop.
It's an itch, one she knows she could ignore if she really wanted to, but what's the point? "It's not that bad," she says, "I'll be fine," she sighs. There wasn't anything left to bite. Not unless she wanted her nails to bleed. She did that sometimes. Everyone said it was a bad thing.
It still calls to her, too bite, to scratch, to tear something, anything. Not… violently. She doesn't think it's violent. But it calls to her. Her gaze drifts to the skin around her thumb. She knows she shouldn't, it'll only make everything worse.
She bites.
First, the tip of her thumb; where her nails would cover if she didn't bite them short. She bites it. Then there's nothing for her teeth to grasp. Not without too much pain. It would be too much effort anyways.
She knows she should stop. She's only hurting herself. But a thought in her mind says, "But does it really count? It's not like you'd cut yourself. This is fine. Others deal with worse. Your friends deal with worse. This is nothing!" It doesn't count as self harm. She doesn't think so, at least. She doesn't know why this itch in her mind is there, yet it persists.
A bit of skin on the side of her thumb, instead of the tip. Teeth grasp it. They gnaw; they chew the skin. Then, the smallest wince. It hurt too much now. A look down reveals a small, rough little circle. Indented and red. The top layer of skin now gone.
A dissatisfied hum leaves her. It hurt now. It was sensitive to the air. Eventually, she shrugs. It would heal. For now she'd deal with it. (It would happen again, she knew it. It had happened before, and it would happen again)
She'd deal with the sharp, tingly pain that shot in her thumb when it brushed something. It wasn't bleeding, so she would be fine.
It would be fine.
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It was… bad.
Her friend wasn't here. Her friend was always here. SHe'd just kept her friend company two days ago. A sad anniversary date had happened on that hang out day.
She was concerned. Her friend had a bad time with things like that. cutting, suicide. She was happy to be there for her friend. Always was, always will be. If it helps stop any harm. And just to be close. She likes to be near.
Now, her friend wasn't here. She remembered her friend going to the school counselor the day before. She… supposed she trusted the counselor. More than her friend did. Then again, her problems weren't nearly as bad. Less bad experiences to be had, therefore.
She hadn't seen her friend this morning. It had worried her, but she supposed they could just be late… maybe getting a coffee? They had lunch together today, so she'd have to see. (A cold dread seeped into her bones. She was unnerved. She was… scared)
The day went by. Nothing too bad. She got to annoy one of her friends that was there. Then, lunch came. She looked at the table. Nothing.
Well, her class was closer to the lunchroom than her friend's was. Was that it? (She knew it wasn't, but… she tried to be hopeful) She got food. The other friends came over. It was nice, of course. They're nice. One of her other friends, another who knew why she was concerned, talked. (He was concerned too. He hid it better, but he seemed a little more quiet. More… in tune with his surroundings)
Three of them went to the other building. Her other friend, he was good. His girlfriend was there. Plus another boy. She didn't know this one, but he seemed okay. His shirt was good.
The girlfriend didn't understand. Not fully, at least. She didn't know why they were concerned.
A nervous hum left her. Long and low. Again and again. Repeating. Almost like a generator. Only one understood why. Both him and her tried to text, to call their friend. They didn't respond. (She was hoping sick at the least. More likely a mental hospital. At worst… she didn't like that idea)
The humming didn't stop. She sat by the two people she knew. That she was comfortable with. It didn't help much. Eventually they all left to do something somewhere else. She didn't know what. She stayed behind.
Another person came. They were nice. They also tried to reassure her. It didn't help. The humming continued. She could barely focus in class. She was scared. For her friend. She asked her mother to ask her friend's dad. She was told her friend would be back the next day. She calmed a bit, but not much. She still didn't see her friend that day. Though, she was put in ISS for too many IDs. A shame.
Maybe that's why she scratched her arm. That, plus boredom. She didn't have anything to do. Nothing she understood, at least. She got taken to the counselor for that. Her arm was red from the pencil she used to scratch herself with. It was an accident. Plus, they didn't like when she drew on tables. And she didn't have paper.
Though, her friend emailed her to say she was back. That was good.
Her friend was back the next day. She was happy. Still worried, but happy. She got to see her friend. It was a mental hospital. The counselor ended up calling the 911. They said they were suicidal. Self harm.
She clung to them more than usual. She still hummed, but softer. More… joyful, she supposed. small conversation with them. She didn't want to see her friend get hurt. Her friend didn't either. They were trying. Her friend seemed concerned at her bitten thumb. Where the red skin was exposed to the air and stung where she touched it.
She was encouraged to go to go to the counselor herself. She complained a bit, but her friend insisted. She didn't know what exactly to say. What could they even do?
Her legs felt a bit shakey. Her thumb hurt, obviously. She had a headache like every day, but she supposed it hurt more than normal today. The slightest sharp pain in her stomach, perhaps. But… what could they even do about that?
Yet, she went. She didn't want to be a hypocrite. She wished she had dragged her friend to go with her. ("My emotional support person," she might have said) She went by herself. Her normal counselor was gone. She got the other one. The man. He seemed nice, from what she knew. His room was better than her normal counselor's.
It was… odd. She didn't know what to say. She bothered them too much, she knew that. She bothers everyone. She knows that too. She wasn't good at things. She needed to go at her own pace, yet she wasn't able. She knew any group members in her class didn't like her because of that. She wasn't useful.
She wasn't sure what to say. He asked if she hurt herself on purpose. She didn't… think so. It was odd. It was something she knew would hurt. Something that hurt while she did it. The scratching of the arm, her thumb… Yet she couldn't quite pull herself away. Not by herself.
She didn't want to hurt herself any other way. She want to hurt herself in general. Did doing that count as hurting herself? It always seemed like it wasn't that bad. She didn't want to kill herself. That just seemed boring. Like it would hurt too much. Getting piercing was enough.
She left eventually. Nothing really happened. She expected that. There wasn't anything to do. It just… was. (She still worried for her friend. She didn't like that she wasn't still near them)
School went on. It was… boring. She focused a little better. That was okay, at least. She finished her math test. She figured out what her coding class wanted for her. She went home. Everything still hurt. Se didn't like it. She didn't want to do more than she had to. Not when she felt like this. She knew it was nothing compared to others, but it still hurt her. But she tried to continue.
She was still scared.