Crumpled tissues littered the floor.
She grabbed the box cutter from the tabletop, sitting on the loveseat in a fetal position, still sobbing.
The box cutter dropped on the carpet. She picked it up, mystified.
Felt the cool metal with her fingers she did, causing them to bleed. She merely laughed.
She fixed her gaze upon her left arm, covered with fresh scars. The blade deftly pierced her already scarred skin, causing blood to flow.
With a maniacal cackle, she continued to draw the blade across her skin.
"Damn you to hell. I don't love you anymore."
Her cackle turned into choked sobs.
"I hate you!"
She turned her attention to her right arm, the blade continuously digging into her flesh.
"Damn right, I don't love you anymore! You never did love me."
She lay on the loveseat, her feet propped up. Her head was spinning; her vision was blurry.
Crimson liquid was pooling on the floor, being rapidly absorbed by the off-white carpet.
Her strength draining away with her life force, blood, she fixed her eyes on something on her desktop.
The black and white picture was framed with a simple and yet elegant ebony carving.
The boy in the picture smiled back at her and gazed intently with his brown bloodshot eyes.
She took her last breath, the world fading into black. Her empty brown eyes would forever stare back at him.