and then they will dissolve

My glass has cracked, and my black sands have spilled out before me.
It wasn’t the sexual nature of the episodes. Everybody has the hormones and the parts for that.
It was the blood. It is the blood. The bleeding cut over that boy’s eyebrow. Adrian’s bloody tissues all over my hands. They set me off.
They revealed my true nature. One that delights in the pain of others.
I am standing at the bottom of a well, and the rain is slowly pushing the level past my knees. I’m holding my black sands above my head. But they will be mud soon. And then they will dissolve.
And still my parents do nothing. Maybe they’re fooling themselves, pretending it’s just a phase, that it’ll go away like a fad. Like when I wanted to be a tap-dancer when I was nine.
Or maybe they do know, they’ve always known. I’m the reason we don’t see regular doctors, why we’ve moved so much. They’re just waiting for the one destructive act to put me away forever. After all, I haven’t really hurt anyone yet.
Eaten a trashcan’s worth of bloody tissue, yes.
Touched myself on top of a bookcase in the school library, yes.
But hurt someone, no.
Maybe I need to hurt myself to get their attention.
I wonder if I have the courage for that.