Story of my Kalika

The idea of this story kinda came up when I writing a short story for one of my friends on the spot when I was 13 and now reread it and came with a better idea on how to expand on it. I'm typing it here so yeah that's pretty much why I'm doing this. Enjoy it...or not really just up to you c':

Chapter 1

"...she smiled faintly her eyes emotionless and glassy..."

I came home one night and I heard her sobs in the bathroom. "Kali?" I said knocking on the bathroom door. "Baby are you alright?"

She held her breath her sobs coming to an abrupt stop. "I'm fine," She spoke almost as if she didn't trust her own voice.

"Please don't lie to me Kali please tell me what's wrong." I put my hand on the ice-cold doorknob and I felt goose bumps go up my arm to the back of my neck. "Can you at least open the door for me?"

For a minute, I waited there in heart retching silence, and then I heard the sound of the lock on the doorknob click. I turned the doorknob; pushed open the door, and saw her sitting on the side of the bathtub her wrist dripping with blood. The bathtub filled with water with a tint of pink as her blood dripped into the bathtub making a plopping sound. My heart ached with pain as if someone had torn it out and stomped on it. I grabbed her wrist to stop the bleeding, holding on to her wrist tightly.

"WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS?" I yelled as she winced from the sting of the wound and from me gripping her wrist so tightly. My eyes filled with tears, "Baby why would you do this? You promised me you wouldn't do this again." I spoke softer my voice filled with hurt as my tears fell down my face and dripped onto her bare thigh.

*She started crying again and she leaned onto me. "I...-"

"Tell me." I said coldly looking down at the crown of her head. Gripping her wrist tighter as the blood covered my hand and started to drip from my fingertips.

"B-be-Because," She paused and looked up at me her face looking as pale a sheet of paper and as delicate as a wilting flower smiling faintly her eyes emotionless and glassy. She opened her mouth her lips a chalky white, "because, I'm...-"

She passed out and I realized if I had not been there to catch her. When she passed out, she would have fell backwards into the tub and most likely have drowned. That is saying that she didn't lie on the floor watching as she bleed to death instead. I laid her on the floor found her grayish-blue colored shirt she had since she was 16 years old it still said D.A.R.E on it in its faded lettering. Even though she never did do drugs because of her family background she even refused to take medication that I knew she needed but wouldn't even get checked out for.

I washed her wrist and knew she missed the vein but just barely. As I patted it dry I looked at her pale face wondered to myself how long she had actually been in here. I wrapped some toilet paper around it to slow down the bleeding since I hadn't had anymore bandages because her little sister had come over last week and she had cut her leg trying to climb a tree and ended up falling out of it. After wrapping the toilet paper on her wrist, I tied her shirt around her wrist tightly to slow down the bleeding even more because I knew by looking at the cut before that she had cut deep enough to need stitches. I put her robe on her slowly a soft pink one that use to mine. I never wore it much I never really liked pink. I smiled faintly remembering how I was about to throw it away and she saved it from its destined garbage demise.

I picked her up slowly in my arms and walked back down stairs watching her head carefully as I walked past doorways. I looked down at her pale face and thought..."is thinking all I've ever really been good at?" I felt tears stinging in my eyes and thought, "Could I have somehow prevented this? Or worse could I be the one that caused it in the first place?" As I laid her down on the back seat of my car and got into the front seat, I felt tears threatening my eyes just waiting for me to blink and travel their salty bitter path to my mouth or my chin. I refused to cry and then I looked in the review mirror and saw her pale face I could no longer hold them back. I let the tears fall down my face and thought to myself. "Could I have been so blind of her feelings that the only way she could've thought to show me how she was feeling; was by causing physical harm to herself?"

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