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