The bathroom tiles beneath my skin are cold. My body feels heavy, like it's drowning in a sea of unspoken words, each one a dead weight pulling me further down into oblivion.

The world blurs at the edges as my arms sting with an intense pain, yet the only thing that feels real is the ache within. My hands tremble as they release the metal, the shakiness intensifying at the loss of something to latch onto. It's a desperate longing for something to ease the pain, a yearning for a moment of peace. It's a battle between seeking release and fearing what comes after, though the former tends to come out victorious.

The bathroom fan hums softly in the background, a contrast against the storm brewing within me. The silence is the loudest part of it all, not the tears nor the lecture after. But when there's a thick layer of dust smothering any glimmer of hope, it's like the world is screaming at you, shaming you for what you have done to yourself.

The pain feels like a constant companion, a shadow that never seems to fade. So, when the bathroom light flickers rapidly, engulfing my weak form in a layer of darkness, the shadows on my skin remain persistent – my actions lingering for the foreseeable future.

I wait for the moment the regret consumes me, when I'm given a moment of clarity. But it doesn't seem to arrive. Instead, I relish in the pain, in the way it makes me feel alive.

It makes me feel.

‘Dinners ready,’ mum calls from downstairs.

So, I stand on shaky legs.

Each hesitant breath fogs the mirror in front of me, a temporary mask over the haunted eyes staring back at me. The fluorescent light acts as lightning, striking my brain and causing my vision to blur.

This room, a sanctuary and a prison, holds the weight of all the pain eating away at me, a silent plea echoing in the porcelain walls.

The towels are stained with my tears and the shampoo bottles know my deepest secrets. They line along the edge of the bath as if watching over me – a witness to my unraveling.

In this small space, I find an interesting sense of safety. Outside this room, I must hide my pain, but inside I can release the demons torturing me, allowing for a temporary sense of relief from the storm raging within.

Mum calls again, angry that I'm taking too long and it will get cold.

So, I put on my jumper and unlock the door as I descend downstairs,

If only she knew.

The bathroom is my confessional