This is dedicated to anyone who has been through something, and their plea for help has gone unheard. This is my plea for help.
One.
I could still hear his voice, his beautiful, beautiful voice.
"I didn't meant for you to find out this way."
Two. Three.
I could still see his face, his beautiful, beautiful face.
Laughing cruelly at me, smirking.
Four. Five. Six.
I could still see his eyes. Once caring and thoughtful.
Turned cold and mocking.
Seven. Eight. Nine.
Was I not good enough for him? No, I wasn't.
Fat, ugly, worthless, nothing, unwanted.
Ten. Eleven. Twelve.
I watched with cold eyes as the blood bubbled up.
Red was such a pretty color.
Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.
She felt fresh tears spill down her cheeks, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen.
Was I that bad? Yes, I was.
It was the reason Jace left. I wasn't good enough.
It was the reason my dad left. I wasn't good enough.
Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one.
The pain was my mercy. I could feel nothing else, just the blade on my skin, the warm blood.
Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Twenty-four.
My stomach, legs, and arms burned. The pain was fresh and new, releiving me of my burden.
Twenty-five. Twenty-six. Twenty-seven.
I lay down, hoping the blood wouldn't stain my blankets. I set the blade down, my eyes shutting as a few stray tears leaked out, followed by more.
I couldn't think of anything.
And yet I couldn't clear my mind.
One thought echoed through my jumbled thoughts.
I guess I won't be wearing shorts or short-sleeves for a while.
Please review and tell me what you think.
Ks
