There's no need to seek help.
She took out her pocket knife, marvelling at the sharpness of the blade. She felt the tip of the knife with her index finger, purposely cutting her skin. Red blood dripped. She smiled in satisfaction.
Calm down. Who cares anyway?
I doubt anyone would. It's come to five years hearing snide remarks, rude insults about me. I'm tired. I'm tired of it all. There's no more thrill in being a pure girl. I just can't be who I am. It's fake. It's all untrue!
A tear trickled down her already pale face.
Putting the blade across her now bare wrists, she gingerly sliced her skin.
I promised not to do this anymore. But I did it – again. I'll never learn.
A bitter laugh was heard. She felt lightheaded. Her mind felt so free. The adrenaline pulsed through her veins and arteries as she imagined herself on a roller coaster ride. It felt wonderful. This feeling… Freedom, was it?
Mikan never felt freedom for so long. The last time was when she did this – cutting herself.
Suffocated by her friends' expectations, she no longer felt like a friend. She felt like a loser, a dog who follows other's expectations. She could never stand on her own two feet.
Now, it was an addiction.
An addiction that gave her freedom.
No one is going to stop me this time.
As she did it once again, she found herself going in and out of consciousness. She saw a silhouette that reminded her of that young man whom she loved dearly. But she felt useless now.
She pressed the blade far too hard.
"Go…od… b…"
And she was gone.