Promises
Stupid. This whole thing was stupid.
Wallflower lay on her bed, twisting around in the sheets. She buried her face in her pillow, only to flip back over and pull the sheet over her head. A second later, she groaned and tossed the sheet away, turning onto her side. She stared at the undecorated walls, at the dirty laundry on the floor, at the creaking ceiling fan, at anything other than the cartridge on her bedside table.
Eighteen days. She had made it eighteen days without hurting herself. Every single one of them was doomed to fail from the start, and yet there were eighteen of them all the same. How had she managed that? Wallflower stared at her forearm, her gaze tracing along each and every fading scar.
She only managed it because she promised Sunset she would. Why did Sunset have to ask her? Why had Wallflower been stupid enough to agree?
It was her own fault, she knew. Sunset wasn’t an idiot. Of course she had figured out what Wallflower was doing to herself, what with her wearing the same gross sweater every day through the summer. Wallflower wondered who else knew but just hadn’t said anything to her about it.
Eighteen days. Eighteen tally marks on the dusty chalkboard hanging by her bedroom door. Healthier tally marks, Sunset had joked. At the time, Wallflower had laughed along with her, even if it wasn’t all that funny. Keeping Sunset happy was a good enough reason for her, though. She was her only friend, after all. Was that the only reason she had made it these eighteen days? To keep Sunset happy? It definitely wasn’t making Wallflower happy, that was certain enough.
It had been a full eighteen days since she promised Sunset that she wouldn’t hurt herself, and Wallflower knew there was no way she could make it to day nineteen.
Sitting up in bed, she at last turned to look at the little orange box on the bedside table. Inside were five razors, sterile and wrapped in paper. If she wasn’t such an idiot, she would have at least bothered to do a better job of hiding them in case her parents happened to come home from their business trip—the second one this month—earlier than scheduled. Then again, if she wasn’t such an idiot, she wouldn’t have bought them in the first place.
With a slow, steady hand, Wallflower pulled a razor blade from the cartridge. She stared at it through the thin paper wrapping, her eyes following the strange pattern in the center. She was pretty sure that it was used to secure it to an actual shaving razor, but she couldn’t tell for sure—she’d never used it for anything like that before. Thinking about it only made her frustrated.
A sudden surge of disgust crawled forth from the back of her mind, and she immediately put the razor and cartridge back down. What the hell was she doing? She told Sunset she would stop. She looked her best and only friend in her begging blue eyes and promised that she wouldn’t cut herself anymore. Was she really going to break that promise, all because she was too pathetic to push back against a few urges?
Wallflower’s eyes flicked to the razor. Try as she might, she couldn’t look away. She made a promise to Sunset eighteen days ago, and yet she still couldn’t look away from that stupid little blade.
Now that she thought about it though, the wording of the promise hadn’t been so direct. Sunset had made her promise to stay safe, which, well... If she cleaned the blades and took care of the her wounds after and made sure not to cut too deep...
No, that was wrong. The intention behind her promise had been crystal clear—Sunset didn’t want her to hurt herself anymore. There was no way to lie or cheat her way out of this. No wonder it was so difficult, then. All Wallflower was good at was lying.
If that were true, then what was one more lie added to the pile? All she had to do was cut in a place Sunset wouldn’t see, and she could go on acting like it was still day eighteen. Could she live with herself if she did that, though? Blatantly lying to her best friend’s face? Wallflower already knew herself to be an awful person, but that was pushing it, even for her.
A second later, Wallflower reached for the razor again. She really was hopeless, wasn’t she?
She unwrapped the blade, dropping the thin folded paper back on the table. Without so much as a thought, she pressed its edge down against the fat of her thigh—and stopped.
All it would take was a single shift in either direction, and it would be day zero. No matter what she told Sunset afterwards, Wallflower herself would know. She would know she was a horrible liar twice over, the worst friend Sunset ever had, an irredeemable piece of trash who deserved to be abandoned and shunned and... And...
Pressure built up behind her eyes as she pulled the blade away from her unharmed skin. It would be so easy. It would be so, so easy to go back to day zero. It would be so easy to tell Sunset, to out herself as a liar, to lose her one and only friend over something as stupid as a momentary impulse.
She wanted to cut. She wanted to cut so badly and she didn’t even know why.
There was no use fighting the inevitable.
In a single, swift motion, Wallflower leveled the razor against her thigh and slashed it across as quickly as she could, thankfully fast enough to not give herself time to think about it. As soon as the stinging sensation reached her, she felt like she was going to throw up.
It was day zero. She broke her promise to Sunset, just like she always knew she would. She wouldn’t be able to lie to Sunset about it later, and Sunset would hate her, just as she always should have from the beginning.
As Wallflower watched the redness of her own blood seep into the cut, her gaze hardened, and she held the blade against her skin again. If she was going to break her promise, she may as well be thorough about it.
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This...almost seems like a self-fulfilling prophecy, really....
Wally noooo.
You made 18 the first time. Aim for 19 with the next.
I've been where you are Wallflower. I know how hard it can be to fight those feelings, and how bad you can feel when you give into them.
Just remember, Sunset won't give up on you, no matter what.
Scampy why can't Wally be happy :(
Wallflower's inner turmoil, the way she argued back and forth with herself, the way her mind drifted between almost-compromises broken by the briefest flashes of resolve, only to inevitably come swirling back again, absolutely squeezed my heart. And to see this inner conflict, the struggle between keeping her promise and feeding what has essentially become a part of her life, coated with a such a thick layer of self-disgust...
What really gets me about this is that this is just a snapshot into a single moment of a single dayout of eighteen. I can only imagine what the days before were like. Similarly, I can only dread what comes after she tells Sunset. Even if Sunset were to handle the situation well (which I'm pretty sure she would (gosh I hope she would)), would it be enough to assuage Wallflower's disappointment in herself? It's hard to ignore hurtful things when you say them to yourself.
Oooh I hope that Wallflower keeps on trying her best.
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Wally noo child i can't say it'll be okay but.. I can't think of anything else to say
Noooo, I thought Wallflower would make it to nineteen
Good to see honest stories like this. Hope it has a happy ending.
Of all your stories that I was expecting a continuation of, Bad Habits certainly wasn't one of them. But once again, I’m glad you decided to write this.
You have a real way of delivering some quite broad-reaching, uncomfortable truths about depression as part of a single snapshot in time. The defeatist attitude to the point that going back to day zero becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, those flickers of justification (or as she put it, “cheating”), and the way it all eventually comes back to that overwhelming feeling of being worthless and beyond help and deserving it.
You’ve managed to capture all this very neatly in a mere one thousand words, and it’s definitely entering “I’m in this photo and I don’t like it” territory. It’s interesting that you describe it as an almost physical urge, though I've read that it’s not uncommon. But again, the way you’ve presented it, it’s… understandable. Wallflower feels the urge to cut, so that’s all she can think about, just like how you suddenly notice how dry your mouth is when you’re thirsty.
It always feels wrong, liking and favouriting your stories; they're not exactly material that you can smile at and give a thumbs-up. But I guess that in the absence of an "I admire what you've made and appreciate the respect and exposure you're giving to a subject matter often overlooked and over-dramatised" vote, it'll have to do.
Oh I seen something in myself I shouldn’t have. Thanks for making this? I dunno
What’s a cartridge?
She shouldn't have asked, but that doesn't make Wally stupid.
More great prose here. I can feel the words dripping as I read them. Wally's turmoil, frustration, and struggle was very well-done. You can convey emotion through the third-person perspective really well. Not everyone can, so you should be proud of that.
The thing is, Wally, tomorrow is a new day. A time where you can step right in and start again.
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Sunset screwed up, she did not give Wallflower the support she needed to stop cutting herself and simply asked her to stop. In doing so she made everything so much worse.
That external accountability seemed so solid at first. Keeping Sunset happy, keeping her from worrying, keeping a promise. And watching Wallflower poke and prod at that dam for weaknesses was painful, because she seems very good at it.
But it was amazing to see that there was something in her fighting back. Reminding her of the promise, and even using her own self-loathing against those urges. It was just as heartbreaking to see those urges win out in the end, adapting around her new defenses. And once the dam breaks, what’s left to stop the flood? (I really felt that last part, since it is something in my thought patterns as well.)
Still, the one line she could not cross was lying to Sunset. That made me hope that something was planted in her that could grow. Eighteen days this time, but maybe longer the next.
Another moment captured powerfully. Thank you for it.
Yikes, this one is a lot more toned down compared to the last one, but even then, it still hits just as hard. Wallflower remarks that although refraining is making Sunset happy, it isn't making her happy. I'm sure she knows that nothing will change even if she follows through, but she's just so done with living day by day with nothing happening that she's willing to do it.
The progress though, is notable. It takes her so much effort just to make on quick cut, whereas previously she was making plenty at a much slower pace. She has to physically force herself to use that tiny bit of will remaining.
Great continuation, and I really want to see Wallflower heal.
Oh, Wallflower, don't do this to yourself :(
I'm torn if this was as long as it needed to be, or if it needed something more. But overall, I appreciate the contrast with its predecessor. Wallflower's thinking more of Sunset here - and it shows. Well done in weaving in both Wallflower's hesitation from her personal angle, but also her consideration on what Sunset would think, and if she's even worth her.
She really needs a hug.
Hello, a review to your story has been posted. I hope you find it helpful.
As someone who's dealt with self harm on/off for nine years, there's a reason why you typically aren't meant to make someone who's self harming promise you they'll stop. For one, if it's long-term, most people can't just stop doing something like that out of the blue. Two, like shown here, typically a relapse after someone pulls the "Stop please? For me? 🥺" card can be worse because then you feel guilty for breaking the promise. Not that I think Sunset would know that, and I don't think she's bad for it or anything.