She based her life on her friends and what they knew. She always pretended nothing happened. But at that cabin. She never wanted to imagine. She could never forget her uncle's cabin. And what lyed behind the front door. A trapped little girl without a smile. And nothing to do but cry tears of blood. For her pain never stopped. Even if she was to get away. She would still be in the cabin locked behind that front door. She would never escape it. Unless she let go of the fear of what was beyond the locked door. It was like she was hiding in a closet full of broken hearts and tears. So none of her friends knew. That she was going back to the memory everytime someone said the word "love". Which was ironic. Since she never had experience with that word. She was never told, she was loved. She never told anyone they were loved by her. Since she knew nothing of love but the meaning in a dictionary. Her best friend fell in love. And couldn't stop saying the word. So she would always be in her terrible memories. So to drown them out. She took her pick of the perfect little razor. And her moms pistol. So she ended her life with a two-in-one. So she couldn't be brought back to the pain. If she didn't die from deep cuts she would die of a gun shot to the heart. Smart girl of suicide.
