“You know, you can’t survive on merely energy drinks and men” scoffed Danny. He grimaced at Ivy, jealousy hardening the soft honey color of his eyes. Danny reeked of liquor and Ivy noticed yellow powder from her anxiety medication dusted on the bottom of his nose. She stared coldly back at Danny and furrowed her brows as she hesitated to reply.

“You have no say in my affairs anymore Danny, you gave up that right the moment you laid your hands on me” Ivy responded in a tone as dull as the light in her eyes. It killed her inside a little more every time Danny greeted her like this when she returned home. How did things always end up like this, Ivy wondered. She was practically desensitized to these tense and unfortunate conversations at this point. After all, she couldn’t remember the last time Danny was truly kind to her. He was often self centered and cruel, and was once again roping Ivy into a disheartening argument. Danny’s eyes darted down as he clenched his fists at her cold reply. He unscrewed another full bottle of vodka and chugged at it like it was water.

“Come have a drink with me Ivy, you seem upset” Danny taunted. Ivy sighed and sat next to Danny on the red, beaten down couch that occupied the small living room in their apartment. Why not? I’m so tired of fighting... maybe I’ll feel better if I just get drunk, Ivy sullenly convinced herself. She was so depressed from the tragic past few months that she struggled to find a shred of optimism within herself.

After throwing back several shots, Ivy began to feel increasingly dizzy and disoriented. Danny produced a small pill bottle and poured four round yellow tablets onto the littered glass coffee table in front of them. Although inebriated, Ivy recognized them as her anxiety medication. Danny began to crush up the pills with one of Ivy’s glass candles and handed her a short straw.

“Here, inhale some of your medication. This should make things more fun” Danny playfully demanded. Ivy knew the risks of mixing her medication with alcohol, but she didn’t dwell on this fact for long. Frankly, she hoped she would die. Ivy took the straw and confidently inhaled the powder without a second thought. Since she hadn’t inhaled medication before, Ivy immediately began to cough and rub her nose. Even though it burned her sinuses and scratched up her throat, Ivy continued to inhale the reminants of the four pills. She began to feel warm and sleepy as she leaned back on the couch. Will this be how I die? Ivy drearily wondered as she closed her eyes. She imagined what death would be like, hoping it would be as peaceful and warm as the mixture of alcohol and drugs made her feel. Ivy wished she could enjoy the dark silence behind her heavy eyelids forever.

Danny ominously laughed. “Good girl, now it’s time to play a little game,” he uttered mischievously, causing Ivy to open her eyes and direct them at him with confusion. Her eyes grew wide yet remained still as he revealed a small silver razor blade.

Danny smirked as he dragged the sharp, thin blade across his thigh. Before Ivy could even react, deep crimson flooded from the gaping line of separated flesh her husband created.

“Your turn” Danny coaxed maniacally. Ivy tried her best to maintain a relaxed demeanor as her thoughts sent her reeling. A knot grew in the pit of her stomach as she reluctantly received the blade from Danny. She hadn’t inflicted wounds upon herself in over two years, and perhaps if she were sober, she wouldn’t have for even longer. A troubled and dreary Ivy placed the blade gently on her wrist. She dragged the edge across her skin in several short lines, creating superficial overlapping separations in her skin. Her sad, empty grey eyes connected with Danny’s for acknowledgment.

“No...,” he uttered with irritation. “You have to do it harder. You have to make the cut deep! Deep enough for the blood to look black Ivy.” Danny’s demeanor became even more intense as he pressured Ivy to wound herself further. Afraid that he would become violent, Ivy nervously looked back at her leaking abrasions. Ivy’s gaze steadied as she swiftly ripped the blade across her arm with increasing force each time. She sliced her skin three times before finally tearing into her forearm hard enough to create a long, wide separation. In her inebriated state, Ivy looked at the wound in shock. She knew she went too far. Even though she was far from sober, Ivy realized just from the gory sight in front of her that she desperately needed stitches.

Even though Ivy’s wound was serious, she didn’t feel any pain. The mixture of alcohol and pills left her feeling numb and dizzy still, negatively impacting her judgement. In a delusional panic, Ivy threaded a small sewing needle with black string and began stitching up her own injury.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” exclaimed Danny in horror. “You need medical attention... you can’t fix that yourself, it will get infected!”

Ivy dismissed Danny’s concerns, after all he was the reason she injured herself in the first place. Piss off Danny, you never cared about me anyway, Ivy thought irritably. She continued to puncture her skin and became surprised as she still didn’t feel any pain while she made herself into her own make-shift sewing project. A third of the way sewn, Ivy began to fumble with the needle and struggle with the growing stiffness of the thread as warm, deep crimson gushed from her arm. She knew then she couldn’t sew herself back together on her own. Ivy didn’t like it, but she knew what she had to do.

Apprehensively, Ivy took out her phone and contacted her younger sister, Sara. Sara is going to be so angry, this isn’t the first time I’ve asked her to come to my rescue, Ivy realized with a grimace. Even so, I have no choice. I went too far this time.. I need help. With that thought, she opened her texts and began to plead with her little sister to come rescue her from herself once again.

Ivy: Sara, I know it’s four in the morning... but I’ve hurt myself badly and I really need your help

Sara: What? I’m sure it’s not that bad, send me a picture.

Ivy complied with Sara’s request and sent her a picture of the very large wound on her arm. She feared what Sara would think of her for creating such damage on her own body and anxiously awaited Sara’s reply. Before she knew it, Sara was calling Ivy. I hope she isn’t angry with me... With that thought, Ivy let out a short breath and answered the phone.