[chapter 1]

In the light of a burning candle she lay on her bed...bleeding.

She was tall and slender. Her long raven-hair was pulled back, she had alabaster skin, her were lips scarlet. She was wearing a pleated skirt, a long sleeved blouse, and sandals with knee-highs.

"Well, you need to sit down to eat, Bente," her mother said as she was placing the plate of food on the table.

Bente put her sweater on the back of the chair and sat down. She pulled up her sleeves and put her left arm under the table. She picked up the fork with her long pallid fingers and poked the sausage. She wasn't very hungry.

"Well I have to go to work. I'll be home around seven, I'll bring home some food. What would you like to eat tonight honey?" asked her mother as she was putting on some lipstick.

"Don't leave too late. Okay, bye sweety," her mother said as she was walking out of the kitchen. "Have a nice day. I love you!"

"Okay, Mom, I got it! Bye!" she relied. Bente got up as she heard the front door close. She got her bag and car keys, headed to the garage, started the car and went to school.

As she was walking down the corridor to homeroom, she could feel her wounds against her sleeves. She smiled timidly. The bell rang before she was at the door, she was late. As she was walking to her seat, her teacher was staring at her.

"Bente, I'll need to talk to you after class," said Mrs. Smith, her English teacher.

As Mrs. Smith rambled on about William Black, Bente was writing in her journal.

Now when I see the blood I feel a sense of relief. Why don't I feel pain? Instead, it feels like it's coming out, being released....

The bell rang; everyone was going to their next class. Bente just stayed put.

"You do know you're doing poorly in my class, don't you?" asked Mrs. Smith as she sat down next to her.

"What's wrong? You were an exceptional student.But recently you stopped doing your work and just write in that journal of yours. Something wrong at home that I can help you with?" Mrs. Smith asked curiously.

"No. Every thing's fine," Bente said placidly. "Why should I be talking about anything with you? May I go now?"

"Uh...," Mrs. Smith looked astounded by what she said. "Yes, you may go. I'll write you a pass."

Bente left the class and headed for gym. Hopefully no one is in the locker room she thought. With her luck, it was still full with girls changing. She didn't know many of them. The ones she did, didn't speak to her. She tried to change as fast as she could, she didn't want anybody to notice her. But on one ever did.

The girl close by looked at her funny and asked what was wrong, Bente said nothing.

The whole hour she folded her arms. Its not like she participated any ways.

"Hey, you, why don't you play with us? We need an extra player," said a girl. She was short, and had brown hair that bounced off her shoulders as she walked up to Bente. She pulled Bente by the arm towards the volleyball net. The girl gasped when she noticed deep scars, and fresh wounds, on her arms.

She couldn't believe someone found out her secret. She ran to the bathroom and locked herself in a stall until she calmed down a bit.

She had nothing to cut herself with; she used her finger nails to tear her flesh. She wanted to see the blood...wanted to feel. Wanted to know she was human.

Once gym was over, everyone in the locker room was whispering as they past her sitting on a bench. Bente knew they were talking about her. She just grabbed her clothes and bag, and ran out of there.

As she was going towards the door, someone yelled, "Get help, you psycho!" She recognized the voice; it was Patricia, someone she was very close too...before.

She ran to her car and drove home. Her eyes were blurry from the teas. She was holding them in, she hasn't cried since she was ten. She refused to.

The blood was trickling down her arms. When she scratched herself, she opened up old wounds.

When she got home, she ran up to her room. She tried so hard to calm down. Her pain was unbearable.

I cut myself to see if I could bring out the person that I wanted to be- make myself better emotionally. I don't feel good about who I was or am. I wanted to feel this extra pain, so I could be in control. Isn't it ironic? It's controlling me!

Bente put her journal and pen down...and held up a razor blade.

Her mother came home and put the food on the kitchen counter. She noticed it was too quiet. She went up to Bente's room.

The door was ajar, she walked in. Once she noticed her daughter's body she gave out a scream which pierced the air.

She walked up to Bente's dresser and found her journal. Then she lit a candle when she finished reading the last entry, and walked out sobbing.

In the light of a burning candle she lay on her bed...bleeding.


	[you.are.sick] [blackest of dreams©] [chapter 1] In the light of a burning candle she lay on her bed...bleeding. "Sounds delicious," she answered her mother sarcastically. She was tall and slender. Her long raven-hair was pulled back, she had alabaster skin, her were lips scarlet. She was wearing a pleated skirt, a long sleeved blouse, and sandals with knee-highs. "Well, you need to sit down to eat, Bente," her mother said as she was placing the plate of food on the table. Bente put her sweater on the back of the chair and sat down. She pulled up her sleeves and put her left arm under the table. She picked up the fork with her long pallid fingers and poked the sausage. She wasn't very hungry. "Well I have to go to work. I'll be home around seven, I'll bring home some food. What would you like to eat tonight honey?" asked her mother as she was putting on some lipstick. "I don't' care really. But whatever you want okay," Bente. "Don't leave too late. Okay, bye sweety," her mother said as she was walking out of the kitchen. "Have a nice day. I love you!" "Okay, Mom, I got it! Bye!" she relied. Bente got up as she heard the front door close. She got her bag and car keys, headed to the garage, started the car and went to school. As she was walking down the corridor to homeroom, she could feel her wounds against her sleeves. She smiled timidly. The bell rang before she was at the door, she was late. As she was walking to her seat, her teacher was staring at her. "Bente, I'll need to talk to you after class," said Mrs. Smith, her English teacher. As Mrs. Smith rambled on about William Black, Bente was writing in her journal. Now when I see the blood I feel a sense of relief. Why don't I feel pain? Instead, it feels like it's coming out, being released.... The bell rang; everyone was going to their next class. Bente just stayed put. "You do know you're doing poorly in my class, don't you?" asked Mrs. Smith as she sat down next to her. "Yes." "What's wrong? You were an exceptional student.But recently you stopped doing your work and just write in that journal of yours. Something wrong at home that I can help you with?" Mrs. Smith asked curiously. "No. Every thing's fine," Bente said placidly. "Why should I be talking about anything with you? May I go now?" "It's good to talk things out. I'm just trying to help." "Well I don't need your help! May I go now?!" "Uh...," Mrs. Smith looked astounded by what she said. "Yes, you may go. I'll write you a pass." Bente left the class and headed for gym. Hopefully no one is in the locker room she thought. With her luck, it was still full with girls changing. She didn't know many of them. The ones she did, didn't speak to her. She tried to change as fast as she could, she didn't want anybody to notice her. But on one ever did. When she was looking for her sweater, she couldn't find it. "Dammit!" Bente yelled. The girl close by looked at her funny and asked what was wrong, Bente said nothing. The whole hour she folded her arms. Its not like she participated any ways. "Hey, you, why don't you play with us? We need an extra player," said a girl. She was short, and had brown hair that bounced off her shoulders as she walked up to Bente. She pulled Bente by the arm towards the volleyball net. The girl gasped when she noticed deep scars, and fresh wounds, on her arms. She couldn't believe someone found out her secret. She ran to the bathroom and locked herself in a stall until she calmed down a bit. She had nothing to cut herself with; she used her finger nails to tear her flesh. She wanted to see the blood...wanted to feel. Wanted to know she was human. Once gym was over, everyone in the locker room was whispering as they past her sitting on a bench. Bente knew they were talking about her. She just grabbed her clothes and bag, and ran out of there. As she was going towards the door, someone yelled, "Get help, you psycho!" She recognized the voice; it was Patricia, someone she was very close too...before. She ran to her car and drove home. Her eyes were blurry from the teas. She was holding them in, she hasn't cried since she was ten. She refused to. The blood was trickling down her arms. When she scratched herself, she opened up old wounds. When she got home, she ran up to her room. She tried so hard to calm down. Her pain was unbearable. If I could kill myself, I could stop hurting. She got her journal and wrote: I cut myself to see if I could bring out the person that I wanted to be- make myself better emotionally. I don't feel good about who I was or am. I wanted to feel this extra pain, so I could be in control. Isn't it ironic? It's controlling me! Bente put her journal and pen down...and held up a razor blade. Her mother came home and put the food on the kitchen counter. She noticed it was too quiet. She went up to Bente's room. "Bente, honey?" The door was ajar, she walked in. Once she noticed her daughter's body she gave out a scream which pierced the air. She walked up to Bente's dresser and found her journal. Then she lit a candle when she finished reading the last entry, and walked out sobbing. In the light of a burning candle she lay on her bed...bleeding. [prose]