Her father approached as the girl tugged at her delicate sleeves.
She knew what was coming. She knew he was coming.
He grabbed her wrist, and she screamed at his grip. The cuts began splitting, the blood began pouring, and so did her tears.
He looked her in the eyes and asked, "What is wrong with you?"
He would never love a daughter who cut.
Tears hit the floor as she sprinted to her room. The question kept replaying in her mind, as she lye in her blood covered bed.
"What is wrong with me?"
She glanced at her frightening reflection, she had a solution to it all.
It was time to visit her friend again, but this would be the last time.
As she stared at her reflection, she finally said goodbye.
"This is it, I will no longer have to try."
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@onlyamberr
words, how little they mean when you're a little too late.
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