Chapter 55: "The Breaking Point"
Zariah didn't sleep.
She just stared at the ceiling, her mind on repeat, the world spinning in shadows.
By the time morning light crept through her window, she was already dressed — baggy hoodie, long jeans, and the same dead-eyed look she wore like armor.
Her mom had already left for work. A note sat on the table. "Money's on the counter. Please eat something. Love you."
Zariah stared at the note. She didn't feel loved. She didn't feel anything.
School was a nightmare the second she stepped through the gates.
The whispers were louder today. Crueler.
Someone laughed behind her in the hallway.
"Bet she came back from a psych ward."
"Did you see her arms yesterday?"
"I heard she tried to kill herself."
She kept walking. Eyes forward. Heart hollow.
Jasmine noticed. Of course she did. "Zariah… ignore them. Please. They're just idiots."
But Zariah couldn't ignore it. The words stuck like nails under her skin.
In science class, someone coughed and said, "Emo freak" loud enough for half the room to hear. A few people laughed. The teacher didn't even look up.
Zariah sat in silence, her hands clenched in her lap. She felt the panic rise, but she forced it down, swallowing it like poison. When lunch came, she sat next to Jasmine, ate some of her sandwich, then excused herself to the bathroom.
She locked the stall door.
And made herself throw it up.
It was easy now. Automatic.
By the end of the day, she felt like a shell.
Jasmine walked her home. Zariah barely spoke. When they reached her front gate, she managed a tiny "Thanks" before going inside.
The house was empty. Silent.
She dropped her bag. Walked straight to the bathroom. Opened the drawer where she kept the blade — hidden behind makeup wipes and a roll of gauze.
Her fingers didn't hesitate.
This time, she didn't go for the usual spot on her upper thigh or wrist.
This time, she dragged the blade across her vein.
Too deep. Too fast.
At first, there was silence.
Then the blood came — fast, dark, endless.
Zariah collapsed to the floor, gasping, her body shaking uncontrollably. Her vision blurred as the blood pooled beneath her.
The pain barely registered.
But the panic did.
She had wanted to feel something.
Now she wasn't sure she wanted this.
A sob ripped out of her throat — loud, broken, like something inside her had finally cracked all the way through.
She couldn't move. Couldn't think.
"Why am I like this?"
"Why won't it stop?"
Her hoodie soaked with red, her hands slipping as she tried to press against the wound, Zariah sobbed until she couldn't breathe.
Her head throbbed. Her heart pounded.
She didn't want to die.
But she didn't want to live like this anymore, either.
And for the first time, there was no voice left in her head to argue back.