For as long as she could remember, Anamarie had a thing for "bad boys". She didn't like to think of them that way, but there was no other name for them, really. Despite her best intentions, Ana was drawn to them, like a moth to a flame. She had no control over herself whenever she was near a boy she fancied, but she wouldn't have it any other way. "That's what makes you so fiery," Ana smiled as she recalled what one of the four boys she had dated in the last month had told her.

Just like most girls that were her age, Ana never stuck with a guy. It just wasn't her style. She wasn't ready to be tied down to just one boy, and, frankly, she didn't want to. She loved the excitement of switching from one boy to the next, the power it gave her. It was this power that she now craved, yet she hadn't met somebody that could soothe it. Sure, Boyfriend Number 5 had been very passionate, but she still wasn't convinced he was right for her; Ana hated nicknames, and being called "honey" and "darling" made her want to vomit. So, she let him go, as a fisherman would let go an unwanted fish. It was as easy as that, and Ana would never have to hear from him again.

Her best friend, Hanna Jordan, had recently expressed her disapproval of Ana's dating habits. Ana brushed them off, of course, but it was only now that she really considered what Hanna had said to her. "People aren't dolls. You can't just put them back in the box when you're done with them." Ana shrugged her shoulders and let out a small chuckle, sitting up on her bed.

It was the last Friday of November, and Ana had initially planned on spending it at the bar with her friends. But Sarah, Hanna, and Jack had all been busy, so here she was in her room. Her phone sat beside her, like it usually did around any 17 year old teenager, but Ana wasn't in the mood to text. All Ana wanted right now was a hug. Nobody would ever expect this from somebody like her; somebody who was on the honour roll, who joined as many sports teams as possible, and was what society classified as "popular". But it wasn't easy for her to live up to those terms.

Right after her birthday, Ana's parents had announced their plans on divorcing. She knew that it was going to happen - her mother had caught her father with another woman not but three days before - but it still took her by surprise. She wasn't exactly sure how to react; obviously she was angry at both her parents, but she was also incredibly sad. Her parents always seemed to be so in love with each other, and it greatly affected Ana to know that such a strong bond could be broken in 72 hours. It made her reflect on her dating experiences, which was something she avoided doing at all costs. It made her feel guilty.

And when Ana felt guilty, Ana felt guilty.

"Happy little pill," she sang quietly to herself, an idea suddenly forming in her mind. She crawled off of her bed and onto the floor, shooting an arm underneath her bed. "Take me away, dry my eyes." Ana grinned when she felt her hand brush against a small box. Pulling it out and tearing the lid off of it quickly, she cracked her knuckles and sighed. She hadn't been in this box for three days, but Ana couldn't resist the urge anymore. Lying on a small sheet of fabric that she had shoved inside it were five small metal blades, each of them coated in dried blood.

She tilted her head from side to side, unsure of which one to use. Ana finally settled on the one covered in the least amount of blood and quickly shut the box, tucking it back under the bed. Her mom was out getting groceries so she had the entire house to herself for a while. "Bring colours to my skies." She skipped out of her room and to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. She rolled up the sleeve of her grey sweater and stared at the several red scars that lined her arm. She felt pained, remembering what each slash at her skin meant. Grasping the blade tightly in her right hand and exposing her right forearm to her view, Ana dug the metal edge deeply into her skin. She breathed sharply, the pain being more intense than she remembered it being.

"My sweet little pill," Her voice quavered and she pulled the blade out of her skin, tears forming in her eyes at the sight of her own blood. "Take...my...hunger..." Another slash, this one cutting deeper than the previous. Tears were streaming down her face and she threw the blade across the room, sinking to her knees and sobbing into her hands. Blood was flowing from her arm and onto the white tiles, but Ana didn't care. She slowly got to her feet, staring at her reflection in the mirror and leaning against the door.

Ana frowned at her image. She had long dirty blonde hair that fell down to the middle of her back. Her eyebrows weren't as prominent as she wished they were, and she had wide green eyes. Ana shook her head, turning the sink on and letting the water run over her bloody arm. The red liquid ran down the drain, never to be seen again. Ana gave a small smile in satisfaction.

"ANA! OPEN UP!"

She jumped when a sudden shriek from downstairs was followed with a consistent amount of banging on the front door. "Showtime," she whispered softly to herself, tugging her sleeve down and turning the sink off. Ana practiced a few smiles in the mirror before settling on one that made crinkles appear underneath her eyes but looked genuine. She kicked the door open and headed down the stairs.

"But within, numb my skin."