A friend wrote this a few years back for a school project. i stumbled across it last night and changed a few descriptions to fit the character. Also this is slightly AU.
*WARNING: CONTAIN A VERY DISTURBING TOPIC*
She picked up her knife and slowly dragged it across the tender flesh of her arm, watching as her blood slowly trailed down over her wrist where it finally fell into the sink, turning the clear water a light pink that grew darker with every drop. This was her ritual. She did this every night without fail. No one had ever questioned why she never wore clothing with shorter sleeves, not even her parents. For the past three years she had done with this and she would continue to do so.
Eventually, she drained the blood stained water from the basin. Once this task was completed she combed her dark blue hair and then proceeded to wrap her arm up before pulling the sleeve of her nightgown down and going to her bedroom. She entered the sanctuary, dodging the pile of clothing on the floor beside her door and moving to her bed. She laid on her bed, cuddling an old, ragged teddy and stared at her ceiling, listening to the argument downstairs between her parents. She closed her eyes tightly and pulled the cover over her head just like she had done as a child when she had been frightened of something in the night. The curses her parents threw at one another began to fade, sleep takes her away and the sounds of yelling are not heard, until she awakes once more.
It was night once more and time for her ritual. Tonight though would be different. This was the last time she would be participating in this nightly routine. For this night she will end it.
She turned on the faucet for the bath, parting the water with her delicate hand. When it was partway full she turned the water off and put two items on the edge of her bath, her knife and a bottle of sleeping pills. Then she slowly undressed so that she was in nothing more than a bra and her underwear and stepped into the steaming water. She lay down, submerged from the chest down. She then picked up her knife admiring it for a moment; it was a relatively small blade, but sharp. She had been attracted to the delicate roses that formed its handle, and so she bought it. She turned the blade once more in her hands and then set it down again, exchanging it for the bottle of pills. She unscrewed the cap and tilted her head back, quickly swallowing several of the pills. She repeated this process once more until she was sure she had taken enough. Once she had done that part she took up her faithful knife. Then she pressed the blade into her wrist and pulled the knife along in a downward stroke. She slowly went over the wound several more times, stopping before her hand became too weak to finish, then moved to her other wrist and repeated the action. She lowered her arms into the hot water, hissing slightly as the water hit the wounds.
She laid like that for some time, she was not angry about this though, it was more of an ache within her heart that never left. She wanted it to go away, and this was how she would do it. She was in no rush though; she had never been one to rush things. She was always quiet; perhaps that was why she was never really accepted. Those she had gone to school with didn't tease or torment her though, they just ignored her. The only person who didn't ignore her was herself. Perhaps that was why she was so methodical about this. Others may ignore her death, but she would take the time to do it properly, and that meant she would not rush.
She began to feel cold and started to shudder. Soon she surrendered to death. Her body was pale and her lips had lost all of its vibrant color. Her pupilless eyes were rolled back, lids half closed. She lay still in the bathtub, red with blood. But she knew nothing of this as she had already taken death's hand and shed herself from this earth.