She holds this weapon to her wrist.
It doesn't matter what it is.
It could be a knife, a razorblade, a nail file, anything.
It doesn't matter.
It can penetrate the skin, it can relieve her pain.
She pauses for a moment
And thinks about what she's doing.
She blinks slowly, causing the first tears to fall.
After that, they're unstoppable.
But it doesn't matter.
She's determined to stop this.
With one last deep breath, she makes the first slash.
Staring in disbelief at only the slight cut she made
She holds her breath and tries again.
She watches the beautiful crimson drip with satisfaction.
She has waited so long for this.
She slices again, in a fresh spot this time.
The result is a fresh red line, with beautiful depth.
She wishes to feel the pain she knows it should bring
But she only feels empty.
One more cut.
Deeper this time, but she still feels nothing.
She looks at the masterpiece she has created.
Her weapon still in her hand
Her tears still falling down, she smiles.
Her victory lies before her.
Slowly, she stands from her spot on the floor.
Pulling down the sleeve of her sweater
She walks out of her bedroom and up the stairs.
She joins her family for supper.
Her fake smile conceals so well
What is hidden under her sleeve.
Her red eyes reveal so well
What is hidden in her heart.
But according to the rest of the world
Nothing ever happened.
