Blood

                Ugly. Fat. B***h. All of the words that pushed her over the edge. She was a young girl; only 15 when her inner demons led her to believe the words were true. She cried herself to sleep with no one to turn to. She was alone, and she had to battle this monster when she was already weak.

                One night, the hollowness she felt that followed her weeping wasn't enough. The monster wasn't being washed away in her tears of sorrow and self-hate. This young girl shook as she left the security of her bed and walked to the bathroom. She walked down the hallway in the dark and suppressed a scream when the monster lashed out again and again inside of her. It twisted her brain around its finger and manipulated it so the girl was her own worst enemy.

                Upon entering the bathroom, she turned on the lights and flinched from their fluorescent brightness. When she willed herself to finally look into the mirror, she was shocked. This girl with swollen, red eyes and greasy, tangled hair was so unfamiliar to her. Her reflection told her what the inner monster looked like. She inhaled sharply and gripped the too-white sink before doubling over in physical pain. Her stomach was in knots and she feared that she would get sick. This young girl was about to back out of the task when the monster started teasing her again. “You won’t hurt yourself. You don’t have to guts. You can’t kill me.” A wave of fear surged through her and her heart starting pumping ice cold blood throughout her body.

                This young girl took her pink razor from under the sink, and sat on the toilet. She toyed with the devil’s tool until the blades fell lose into her hands. She shook with anticipation, fear, and sickness. She turned her left arm over and admired the soft, vulnerable, unscathed, pale skin. Her blue veins stood out in the harsh lighting of her bathroom. She bit her lip and lined the blade up with her skin. All of a sudden the lighting was too harsh and the bathroom was too white. The voices screamed and made her head pound, and she felt her blood pulsing in her ears. She tried to shut out the voices, but they were too loud.

                Finally, the girl dug the blade into her skin and slid it horizontally across her arm. All at once, the voices ceased to exist. The crimson liquid came pouring out of the fresh wound and the girl smiled. The adrenaline rush was inconceivable. The young girl cut three more times before she put the wet blade on the sink and retired to the bathroom floor. The quick loss of blood was draining her. She laid her head on the cool, porcelain tub and admired her art work. Her canvas was torn and a deep crimson. Her paintbrush was glinting in the bathroom light.

                She noticed the red splattered around her all-too-perfect bathroom, and she had split her all-too-perfect skin. The young girl had finally done it. She was done looking perfect. She smiled a big smile. She had felt so alive and yet so dead all at the same time, and she wasn't quite sure how that could be. That didn't matter though. What mattered was that the crimson washed away the monster. That was the lost thought she had before her vision faded to black…