She stared into the clouded glass of her mirror, biting her cracked bottom lip nervously. A tremulous hand reached up to pick up a small hand towel, and she wiped the glass to reveal her frail figure. She dropped the black towel from about her form, revealing her nude body. She grimaced, too pale hands smoothing over the bones protruding sharply through her ethereal skin.

She spoke, then, her raspy voice breaking the silence of the small bathroom. “Fat.” Thin rivulets of water streamed from her soaking hair, falling rapidly down her too-small body. Her hand shaking violently, she slowly picked up her razor, the silver blade glimmering with small droplets of water.

Such complicated simplicity, she mused bitterly. The white of her hand contrasted sharply with the dark hand towel, still clutched tightly in her left hand. She squeezed her clouded grey eyes closed, opening them and staring at the razor, glinting in the harsh light of the bathroom.

She took in a shaky breath, then slid the silver blade along her chest. She sharply hissed in pain and stared in fascination at the crimson welling up against the paleness of her skin. The lines looked like tangled vines in random patterns, the new cuts and old scars vivid on her papery skin. She paused, tears beginning to slide down the ghostly skin of her sunken cheeks to mingle with the blood.

Drops of scarlet slid down her emaciated form, and she finally collapsed in tears to the tiled floor. The blood pooled like bright red coins on the tiles, and she cried.

2.10.03