She's been hold it in all day, but this is the breaking point. She digs her fingernails into her cheeks so hard they bleed. She squeals in frustration. Tears sting her eyes and begin to trickle down her face. She begins to sob uncontrollably.

She hasn't done it in months, but suddenly she feels an overwhelming desire to cut herself. She feels numb; she feels empty. She knows she shouldn't do it - she tries to fight it.

She sits on her couch and busies her hands by playing with a pen. She watches television in hopes of distracting her mind.

It's not working. She wants to cut; mostly just to see if she can still feel the pain. She wants to see if she's still human enough to bleed. She feels the desire to slice open her skin taking her over. She can't explain why, even to herself.

She walks robotically up the stairs and locks herself in the bathroom. There's only so long she can fight before giving in. She picks up the razor silently and rolls up her pant leg. She can still see scars from months before.

She makes the first cut, but the skin hasn't broken, so she continues sawing at it until blood in pouring. She makes a few more, and the familiar wave of relief washes over her. The need is gone; replaced by regret.

She bandages her scars quickly and rolls the leg of her pants back down.

She goes on as though nothing has happened.