“What you see on the outside is my personal disguise,
what hides underneath – you can't even begin to imagine.”
She ran the sharp edge of the small blade upon the bulging vein of her wrist. As the cold metal cut through her skin, crimson red liquid flowed out effortlessly. The girl bit her bottom lip from the sting that lingered upon the cut but smiled with satisfaction as the blood streamed down against her pale forearm. She set the blade on the floor and watched as her forearm began to shade scarlet from the excess blood flow. Some of the blood dripped into the tub and she reached forward, turning on the faucet. She sat there, on the cold bathroom floor, kneeling by the giant tub as she gloried in the physical pain. After a few minutes, she got up and headed towards the sink and weakly placed her bleeding wrist under the running water. She winced visibly as the water made contact with the cut, stopping the blood flow at a slow and painful pace. Yes, it stung... a lot.
But she knew better. The pain that she was feeling wasn’t from the simple cut, but from something far worse than a cutting wound. It was inside of her. Devouring her bit by bit, poisoning her every fiber and vein; consuming what little sanity she had left. After all that, what was left was an empty numbness – A throbbing ache, a raw nagging sore; invisible to the eye. Feelings became an unknown and bizarre subject that she craved desperately but simply detested when she recalled the trouble it had brought to her. The bargain was biased; her being on the losing side. She watched as the bleeding slowed, stuttered and almost halted. She smiled bitterly and the cut was left unattended to, just as the ones before. Pretty soon it would heal but the scar would remain as a reminder of how she had lost all hope and faith.
A swift sound of knuckles knocking against the wooden door snapped the girl out of her reverie and she quickly pulled down her sleeve to hide the visible red line....