Tears swelled in her eyes as she read the text message yet again. She knew the pain it would cause, but also knew that it was true. Ugly. The word jumped out and drove a knife into her chest. Hate. The knife twisted round and dug in further. Bitch. The knife slid across her chest opening new wounds for her to bleed from. A crimson river ran all around her as she writhed upon the cream rug. A loud bang sounded behind her door. Guns. Shooting. Screaming.

The screaming filled her head, blocking out all other noise. Driving itself further and further into her mind. Torturing her very soul. She writhed in pain, clutching her chest where her wounds were. Screaming, SCREAMING, SCREAMING!

Then it was gone. No more screaming. No more blood. No more knife. Nothing. Just her on the cream rug with her door wide open. She peered at the door and saw her mother standing there. Her eyes were wide with fear, her face was ashen. Her mother turned and fled. Jane stared after her, not moving.

What did I just walk in on? Jane was lying there on her rug in agony. At least I think it was agony. Stacy shook her head. No it wasn't agony, just … just … I don't know! Could it of been acting? Acting? Yes it was acting. All just an act. What if it wasn't though? Stacy hurried on before the thought could settle. I'll just think about dinner. What shall we have? She made her way into he kitchen and produced a false smile for her husband.

Jane listened intently at her door. No shouting, no crying, nothing. Her mother had seen nothing of the pain that occurred through her. Her wounds had healed before she had seen. Jane looked round her room, the blood had vanished as always, the knife – gone and her wounds were healed. Just as normal.

Beep Beep. The noise that always sent shivers down her spine. Her phone lit up on the floor and flashed as it always did. The tears were already forming in her eyes as Jane picked up the tiny pink object that somehow caused her so much pain. It wasn't as if she didn't deserve the pain, she just didn't like it was all. She was being punished by God – she knew it. Jane braved herself as she looked at the text.

One word. Woof! The knife returned. Twisting into her stomach and chest, slashing at her arms and legs. Crimson. River.