A/N: This story has references to self-harm. Please don't read this if you do not want to read triggering scenes.
She rotated the tap open until a rush of water came out from its spout, observing the clear liquid as it hit the cold porcelain surface. Beside it was a half-empty bottle of bubble bath soap and an almost empty one of shampoo. She roamed around the four walls of the bathroom: white, tidy, almost antiseptic, even, like the place she works in. It looked just like your usual morning bath, except for one thing: a freshly sharpened razor blade. The tub of water eventually filled up, and as she usually did that particular time of the day, she climbed in the tub and immersed herself in the warm liquid embrace.
The entire hour she simply sat there. Numb, empty, her face free from expression. Suddenly, the familiar plucking of ukelele strings echoed inside her head. That was the last straw. A stream of tears have fallen from her face as it all finally sunk in: She's was never going to see him ever again, and there she is, alone with a daughter he barely had a chance to get to know to raise, a complete stranger in a country she used to consider home. She cried, shedding tears for all the regrets, the missed opportunities, the "what ifs" and "what could have beens"
Her eyes went to that silver object within her easy reach. As if on reflex, she grabbed it. The inspected its shiny surface, still in awe how something so thin and flimsy could cut through the toughest of surfaces. She cut through a part of her fingertip with it, letting the drop of blood fall into the tub. Slowly, but surely, she let the blade run through her wrist, letting even more blood drip into the water, coloring it a light red. She ran it once again through another part of her skin, feeling the emotional pain escape from her like how the blood escaped from her body.
She was going to do it for the third time, this time on the pulse point, to make sure it gets to the finish, but a sudden flood of flash forwards clouded her mind: seeing her daughter grow up, go to school, buying a dress for prom, driving her to college, hopefully see her follow her parents' footsteps. It was as if it was a reminder for her to stop. She suddenly dropped the blade on the floor and broke into a heap of heaving sobs. All she can do was cry, and cry until she felt every inch of pain gone from that moment on.
What have I done?
She grabbed her bathrobe and went to her medicine cabinet. Finding some bandage and a little bit of tape, she wrapped the white gauze around her wrist thick enough to let the blood seep in without showing a shade of red. Going out of the room, she dressed herself in the blouse with the longest sleeves. While her coat was long enough, she wouldn't take any chances.
Soon she was ready to start her day. She had breakfast, got Ella ready, and she's going to work.
They're never going to know.