Everything began when we were sitting in the living room. My cousin Jessica was there. I thought that I was much stronger, that I could deal with everything, but deep down I was just a small scared child who couldn’t feel anything at all. Jessica was still dressed in her school uniform and her blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail. She listened to her mother with admiration. Her brown eyes were wide and took everything in. I hated those afternoons with Aunt Lucy. It was torture sitting next to my mother who kept admiring how well Jessica was doing in school.

“I think we should take Sophia to those art classes in the same college where Jessica goes next week,” said Aunt Lucy, smiling. “A famous artist from Australia is interested in Jessica’s paintings.”

I could have only hoped that mum didn’t take the hint, but it was already too late.

“Yes, of course. Sophia, what do you think?”

“I’m not interested in art, Mum –”

“Oh nonsense! You need to have a hobby. Look at Jessica – soon she’ll be famous around Britain with all her wonderful paintings,” Mum cut me off and I blushed.

“Oh yes, Sophia, the talent is in our family,” exclaimed Aunt Lucy, smoothing her blonde hair.

I wanted to tell her that I hated art. I had my own interest but mum didn’t even want to hear about that. My cousin Jessica was the daughter that my mother always wanted. She had excellent grades, baby blonde straight hair, and she went to the most prestigious art college in London.

“If you do well in school you could apply for a place next year. You’ll be able to meet all those famous artists.”

Jessica beamed with an expression of utter content. She made me sick, with her perfect pale complexion and designer clothes.

“Sophia’s grades aren’t bad, but surely she can do better,” said Mum, smiling widely.

“Jessica’s always had good grades – it’s all about hard work. You should hire Mr. Nicholson for Sophia’s tutorials; her grades would go up within a few months,” Aunt Lucy advised my mother.

My mother wasn’t going to let go of that idea and I knew that she was going to tell me that she’d hired Mr. Nicholson for a trial lesson. My grades were never good enough and I was fed up with being compared to my cousin, Jessica, on a daily basis. I sat digging my nails into my skin, boiling all the emotions inside me but continuing to listen, hoping to block all the negative thoughts away.

When they left I ran upstairs and locked the door to my room. Closing the curtains, I sat on my desk for a while. I felt as if I was going to blow up. There wasn’t enough air in my lungs and I was choking. My mind was spinning, anxiety rushed through my body, and I started sweating because I couldn’t release the pressure that had been building inside me for days, weeks, or maybe years. It felt as if I had been in water for minutes and I couldn’t get above the surface. I pushed my legs and arms, swimming, but the water was getting inside my nose, mouth, and into my lungs. Then I saw them – a small pair of nail scissors lying there where my mother had left them. My hand was shaking when I picked them up. My heart was beating faster and I wanted to stop drowning, so I pushed my chair away and lifted my skirt. I touched my skin with the scissors and then pressed, digging the sharpness inside my flesh. I felt a piercing pain. I cut as deeply as I could and then I threw the sharp object away. Thick liquid emerged from the small wound and I was staring at it, completely mesmerised and fascinated. The anxiety was long gone; it was just long, blissful peace. I smiled, not feeling anything at all. The pressure eased off and I felt better than ever before.

I was finally liberated.