Evie's POV
I was still in the bathroom, tears still streaming down my face.
Stop it Evie. On the Isle you don't cry. You know that.
I can't even bring myself to look at the mirror. I know I look terrible. I still manage to raise my self up to the level of the cabinet. There's a razor, and I take it out.
Do you really want to do this?
Yes.
I can't fathom still living in a world like this, no sunshine, rotten food. I know, there is a sligt chance that I could get out. But I have a better chance if I die. Maybe there's a villain heaven.
I put the razor back in the cabinet and sprint to the kitchen to grab a knife and run back before my mom can see me. I want to carve a message in my skin.
My mom wouldn't care. Actually, she would. She'd be mad because I ruined my skin. No one cares. If I die, no one will care.
No one will care.
Just do it, it's not that hard.
Everyone hates you.
Mal's mad at you, Jay broke up with you, Carlos ignores you.
I don't care about them anyway. But if I don't care, why does it hurt so much? I start crying again.
I stop my crying, and fix my makeup. I curl my hair, and bring the knife to my arm.
Is this what you really want?
Yes.
I carve a sharp line into my arm, form it into a F.
Next comes the A
I
R
E
S
T
By this time, I am pale from blood loss, and light headed. I know tat wen I pass out, I won't wake up. Randome thoughts fly into my head.
Mother said to never smile. Smiling causes wrinkles.
Well fuck you, Mother.
I smile, as I am absorbed into a sleep I will never wake up from.