3. Mirror
She looked in the mirror and didn't recognize the girl looking back at her. Limp, blonde hair framed a pale, ashen face. Sad eyes rimmed with dark circles stared out of sunken eye sockets. Her clothes hung loosely on her thin frame. She was a mere ghost of her former self and there was nothing that could be done to bring her old, happy, laughing self back to life.
Her hand hovered over the razor laying on the bathroom counter and she passed it over, going to the bottle of assorted pills she had found in her mother's medicine cabinet. Twisting open the bottle, she looked inside at the multi-colored pills and spilled them over the counter. Some rolled onto the floor, but she didn't bend to pick them up. Taking the razor in her hand, she held her arm over the sink as she slashed down at her pale, perfect skin.
So much blood. So, so much. Just like that night. No, don't think about her.
The razor came down again and again and again. Metal met flesh. The sharp smell of copper. She switched the razor to the other hand and held her pale, perfect arm over the sink and brought the razor down. More blood. More copper.
So much blood, so much blood, couldn't stop the bleeding. I couldn't stop the bleeding. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault. "IT WASN'T MY FAULT!"
Her voice startled her and she reached for the pills, taking a handful and shoving them in her mouth. The taste of blood was sharp on her tongue and she swallowed the pills dry. Another handful. More blood. Dizzy, she was getting dizzy. Then darkness.
The mirror was empty.
Well, there's that. I'll be putting these up as they come to me, so don't hold your breath. Sorry they're so depressing, but this is probably where most of my emotions are going to be venting. Otherwise, all the characters in my other stories would be dead right now. Thank you for reading.
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