From Now On

She had no other choice. She had tried every other way she could think of. None of them had worked. She didn’t want to do this, but she was worried. Jen had been acting differently. She was staying out late, doing poorly in school, and putting as much distance between them as possible. It wasn’t like her.

She hesitated to open the drawer. This didn’t feel right. It went against everything she believed, but she knew she had to. It was for Jen’s own good.

She opened the drawer and pulled out the book. It was small and had no lock. She opened it to the last entry and began to read.

Just before she could finish, the tears in her eyes almost making it impossible to read, the door opened. Jen was standing there, disbelief on her face, staring at her mother. She looked as she always did every time her mother saw her. Rumpled, tired, upset, a complete stranger. This girl was nothing like her beloved daughter.
Jen suddenly changed. She was no longer surprised, but angry. She jumped across the room, snatched the book out of her mother’s hands, and screamed, “What are you doing in my room? And reading my diary, how could you?”

Her mother looked at her, tears still in her eyes, and reached for her daughter’s arm. At her touch, Jen began to struggle. Pulling this way and that, trying to get free. Her mother kept hold and twisted her wrist, palm up, and pushed back Jen’s sleeve.

There they were. The raised scars. The angry red welts. Dried blood from the last slice was still there. Dozens of them lined Jen’s arm from wrist to elbow. This wasn’t something new. This had started a long time ago.

Jen had stopped struggling. She, too, was staring at the self-inflicted wounds. They seemed different now, with her mother holding her arm. No longer a release from the pain, but more of a chain holding her to it.

Neither spoke a word. Simply looked at the scars. When Jen raised her head, her mother had done the same, and she saw her reflection in her mother’s eyes. She looked cold, distant, pale, and most of all, frightened. She couldn’t take it any longer. She fell to the floor, sobbing. Her mother knelt beside her, holding her, stroking her hair, and saying over and over again, “It’s all right. From now on, everything will be all right.”