i shouldn�t be so paranoid� its stupid to be this paranoid the rational side of my head keeps saying. at the same time i don�t want to be feeling all this pain again.

pain� what a wonderful thought. it�ll give me something else to think about. it won�t make life so unbearable. i need a friend. i need something of my own that i can turn to when everything drives me mad.

i cant though.

mike would be so mad at me. it would be like that phone call all over again and when he came to visit rachel all those times he visited me as well.

i don�t want to let him down, but i�m so insecure and i want to rip the hell out of something. have control over something in the madness of this life

before pro-tools, the computer music, there was �cut and splice� editing. it�s literally what it says it is. it�s in the corner of the room. mike still has it because he likes playing around with it for reasons that remind him of when he was a student at college being taught all about audio equipment and what he does now

nervously thinking about what to do and where i should bleed i get up, forgetting all about the lyrics i had just read� forgetting that mike and his love for me exists� just forgetting everything. only remembering the pain and all the things that people have said to me that have put me down.

i�m shaking but i don�t realise it.

my brain and body are totally focused on one thing. its not something i should realise i�m doing but i am. i am not me. the real me is smothered and i�m taken over by this blood obsessed excuse for a person. not even a person. an image.

knowing full well the lock is on this side of the door and that mike is still on the phone to whoever it is. i pick up the cutter which is exactly like a thin bit of sharp metal then it happens� not once� not twice�

as i realise i�m me again i shake violently watching the blood seep quickly from my arms and drip to the floor. i find myself screaming and yet i cant hear myself screaming.

nothings ordinary with self-harm.

i fall to the floor and curl myself up in the corner not caring what gets covered with blood. i don�t feel the pain. all i feel is the hatred of myself that is making me want to do it anymore.

i�m so lost in the obsession of blood that I cant. i want the blood to fill the room. i want the blood to turn into something its not.

crying in the corner, i suddenly realised i�ve screamed and that�s why there�s now banging on the door and mike calling out my name.

�cat� please open this door� he calls out �please baby�

�i cant� i cry back

�i�m not going to harm you or hurt you. i want you in my arms� he calls back

�you don�t want to see me. i�m not your strong girl anymore. i�m as fucked up as i�ve always been� i find myself crying back

�what do you mean� he asks delicately �cat, i want you. i don�t care how strong you are�

�you don�t want me now�

�give me one good reason why i don�t want you�

�because i did something i shouldn�t� i did something that�s ruined your trust in me� i did something that you don�t want to know� i don�t want you to know me now�

�please open the door cat� i hear mike cry. i�ve never heard him cry

�mike please don�t cry� i don�t want you to cry� i sniff, hating myself for what i�ve done and made him feel. i can�t stop hating myself.

instead of doing what i want - that�s cutting myself as i�m not in that zombie like state anymore � i crawl over to the door, on my knees i then reach up and unlock the door.

i then back up so the door doesn�t hit me in the face and see mike for the first time. i had wanted to tighten my eyes up but i didn�t have time.

he grabs hold of me and holds me tightly. part of me guesses that somehow he knew this would happen.

�oh god, baby, i�m so sorry� mike cries, not caring whether he gets blood over him or not.

don�t know why but this surprises me.

�i�m so sorry� i cry �i didn�t mean to� i just couldn�t help it�

�cat� its my fault. you�ve been so brave with everything. you took me upstairs and tried to keep me calm,� he begins �i didn�t look past the stupidness of what i was feeling. i was more worried about everything else other than how brave and wonderful you are�

�i�m not that brave. i�m stupid. i mean look at me� i say throwing my arms in his face

�you are brave. you�ve put up with so much since i�ve known you. that�s why you�re my strong girl� he replies holding me in his arms, �weak girls don�t crack as quickly. but you have put up with so much. you�ve put up with me having a go at you about jack� you�ve put up with me having to hide you and stupid crap like that. that phone call would have broken me as well. baby� i love you so much�

i find myself crying even more as he says that. he holds me tighter and i wish i didn�t feel this way as i don�t feel i deserve him but i love him as much as he loves me.

�i love you to. i don�t deserve you�

�yes you fucking do. you deserve me more than i deserve you, now shut up!� he demands �come on, i�m taking you upstairs to get those wounds sorted out�

--

i sit on the edge of the bath as mike wets a cotton wool ball with water from an almost red sink. he rubs gently trying to stop the blood and clean up the bits that have bled already.

i can�t admit that it doesn�t sting because it does. a lot. it�s my own doing though. i�m more of a stupid girl than a strong girl

i don�t want to think of the phone call. it�s a heavy thought but instead i try and think of the pain that you get when having blood cleaned up. mikes trying to make me smile and sometimes succeeds

�what happened earlier?� i find myself suddenly saying

�with the phone call?�

�you know i mean that. my heads full of stress and pressure because of all of this and i need to know�

�i think its better if we sit down together and talk about it. the phone call wasn�t from rob though� he says trying to concentrate more on cleaning my wounds

�i didn�t think it was�

�come here you�

mike puts down the freshly soaked cotton wool ball and slides his arms around me. he holds me tightly and pulls me closer

�its not what you think� honestly� he whispers with a bit of excitement in his voice. very eerie!

he pulls me closer and kisses me gently on the lips before picking up the cotton wool ball and gently wiping it across a patch of watered down blood.

i squint my eyes up as the pain hits me and with his spare hand he reaches out and holds mine. he�s really good at comforting me.

i do the most stupidest of things and he doesn�t look at me like i�m fucked up or strange, but instead holds my hand and tells me stupid stories of things that he�s done... and how i�m not the only person that can do this.

the problem is i know this bit.

i sat in a room full of self-harmers in a psychiatric ward hidden in a rehabilitation unit. one of them became my best friend.

that�s avril� the drummer who had issues with hating herself and is now the calmest person i know. she met her girlfriend through that place so i guess its not all that bad.

�there� all done� mike smiles as he wraps a towel round my leg.

after that i watch him stand up and reach the cupboard in the corner. the cupboard that hides the first aid box. slipping down the green box, mike flicks through the contents and finds some gauze and sticky tape to finish my wounds off. he then slips the box back in the cupboard, shuts it and sits back on the side of the bath with his newly found friends.

the towel had dampened my leg and dried it just enough so it could take the stickiness of the tape.