Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Knight or more specifically, Cross Academy. Hanako's mine though.
Hanako sat in the corner of her room, against her bed, crying out of frustration. Here she was at Cross Academy, and doing pretty well, but that wasn't enough for her parents. She had to do better, be the best!
They always did this; nit picking at absolutely everything, never even accepting what she did as even decent. She was going insane!
A few feet away sat the current source of her depression: a simple yet beautiful violin. It had been her father's when he was a young boy. He won many competitions with it, and expected her to do the same. The thing was, she didn't like the violin. It made a beautiful noise, but confused her immensely and always caused her pain.
'Well, I guess the pain isn't worse than what I do to myself anyways...'
Since she couldn't play the violin well, she learned to "play" herself. Using a little blue pocket knife she bought for herself when she turned 13 as a bow, and her arm as a violin, she played in a way only she could appreciate.
She never cut deeply so she never left any scars, but the scabs that would come were always evident. It was a wonder her parents hadn't said anything yet.
Some of her friends at the academy had seen some of her cuts, but they all pretended they saw nothing.
Sometimes her loneliness was too hard to deal with, but cutting always helped her. She was like a balloon with tons of pressure built up inside. Cutting let the pressure out slowly, so she would cut more and more.
Often she wondered when she would get caught.
'What if no one acknowledges until I go too far...'
Hana hated her traitorous thoughts, especially when they made death so... so tempting. Dying made so much sense. Her parents wouldn't have to worry about their pathetic excuse of a daughter, her friends wouldn't have to lie to themselves anymore, and she wouldn't be so overwhelmed all the time...
But she would never go through with it. She was terrified of what she didn't know, and she didn't know what came after dying.
"I don't think I can keep going though."
End Note:
Not trying to say cutting is cool, nor trying to shame those that cut.
These were personal thoughts from a few years ago that resurfaced on a particularly bad day about a year ago. Luckily I found coping methods that worked for me since then.
If anyone ever has issues with this, or needs help, I'm always available if you want to talk.