Disclaimer: I do not own Fruits Basket, but I own a Fruit Basket. XD

A/N: I was bored and I made this many moons ago. I retyped it up because I deleted it. I don't like it as much as I did the original, but I can't remember how the original went exactly. Lol.

Warning: Self Mutilation. Nothing too graphic.

Ugly

I closed my eyes and I could feel the tears seep out. I could feel my arm throb painfully so I traced my index finger over the growing welt on my arm. I scratched at my arms again trying to draw blood.

Nothing.

I silently watched my porcelain skin turn a pale shade of red, as the scratch marked raised slightly.

I hiccupped, as I rummaged through my medicine cabinet. Sleeping Pills. Glucosamine. Vikidine. Zoloft. I looked down and I grabbed the sleeping pills in a pretty foil package. I continued to look through to cabinet, just to admire everything in there. My eyes fell upon an X-acto knife.

Three tears made impact with the ground as I picked up the knife. I ran my finger lightly over the blade, feeling every ridge, enjoying the cool metal over my hot, unmarred skin.

I wiped the side of the blade cautiously over my arm, back and fourth. I could see my tearstained face in the reflection of the blade. I ran a fingernail over the ridges of the blade, allowing myself to be submerged in the sound.

I gingerly lifted the knife above my skin and made a horizontal cut on the back of my hand. I winced and dropped the knife, drowning out the clatter of metal on tile. It hurt.

I gently moved the knife over to the sink as I lay on my back, my hand in front of the light.

I watched in fascination as a lush, fat line of scarlet bubbled up on from skin. It got bigger. And bigger. Almost suddenly, the blood splattered off my hand, and onto my white camisole. I just let it continue to drip.

You know, I've never cut myself before.

I never liked knives. And cutting didn't feel very good. It didn't give me any rush of euphoria that other people claimed they felt when they cut. It hurt, and it didn't give me any release of anything. It just made me look ugly with all these scars on my arm.

But I've always been ugly. Especially on the inside.

So it didn't really matter if it hurt or not.

So it didn't really matter that others told me that I was beautiful or pretty or that I was loved. I knew I was ugly, just like the boar that I represent.

The scar that would later appear on my hand would prove this.

But I secretly cherished the fact I wasn't as pretty as Tohru or as popular as Yuki. They had to put up with breaking other peoples' hearts and were often under stress when it came to their stalkers.

I cherished the fact I would often be ignored.

Beauty was luxury that I simply cannot afford.

Besides, beauty is only skin deep. What really matters is what's on the inside.

My friends love me. These scars are only skin deep. I don't think they represent how I think or how I live my life.

I think the only reason why I'll continue to cut is so that I have a reason to be ugly. So that I have a reason to put myself down when I am rejected by Kyo again tomorrow.

I grabbed the knife once more as it glinted in the fluorescent light. I placed it on my arm at a slight angle, and made a short, vertical cut. Straight and clean. This time, I didn't flinch. This time, I didn't try to fight the pain.

This time, I didn't wait around to see what happened.

I just brought the knife to palm and carved a little heart in it, watching the outline quickly fill in scarlet. I placed my palm on the wall, satisfied to see a smudged imprint of a heart there.

Ugliness is just a blessing disguised as a pretty little curse.

It didn't really hurt anymore.

Review? Please? There's just something about this story that I don't really like... Hmmm... Maybe it's because I haven't read Fruits Basket in forever. I don't know.

I think it turned out decent enough to post. :)