This story contains self-harm, suicide, mentions of sexual abuse, and eating disorders. Please DO NOT read if this upsets you in any way.
Also, this is, as you can probably tell, my first story, and I kind of just wrote it quickly.
Sorry if it sucks or doesn't make any sense at all, or is extremely vague, I know. I have no idea if anyone will get it either…
AND, don't own the characters, Rick does
All she wanted was to be free. Free from this world, free from the Gods and all of their problems. She made one more cut, every time. She didn't want to like the feeling of her own blood on her hands, but she couldn't stop, no matter how hard she wanted too. Their words just hurt too much.
One more cut…
Every time someone whispered that she was weak.
She wasn't, not really.
One more cut…
Every time someone called her fat.
Once upon a time, she threw up all her food, wanting to be so thin that no one would tease her at school anymore.
One more cut…
Every time someone called her a whore, a slut.
She didn't ask to be sexually abused since she was 5.
One more cut…
Every time someone told her that she was useless, worthless.
No one ever wanted her help, how was she supposed to prove herself?
One more cut…
Every time someone said she can't fight.
How could she fight again, when the only person she loved was killed on a battle field?
One more cut…
Every time someone called her a tyrant, cruel and heartless and unfair.
She was just trying to protect everyone from the true cruelty of love.
One more cut…
Every time someone said that she was a bad sister for thinking that Silena was a traitor, and not a hero like everyone else.
Her sister, the one she looked up to, had betrayed them, who was partly at fault for her love's death.
One more cut…
Every time someone sneered at her, not knowing the truth.
They knew nothing of what she had been through.
One more cut…
Every time she realized that no one would ever care.
Why would they? Cruel, heartless, useless, weak, slutty Drew.
One day she just cut too many times…
They found her dead, in a pool of dark red in the washroom, with her beautiful hair covering her head resting on the cold, dirty floor, with her eyeliner smudged, and her secrets written in a small book in her bag, and still warm blood trickling off her pale wrists.
They finally realized what they had done.
Some called her a coward, some called her misunderstood.
She didn't care, she never did.
She was finally at peace, with her love, in the realm of the dead.
She was finally free.