"Somewhere in this darkness is a light that I can't find…" her computer speakers sang, just loud enough to mask any noises. She was standing by her window, staring out onto the streets of the bright city. She hated them. All of them.
Even the ones who had no clue about her existence, about her feelings or her hate. The people who were sitting there: waiting for the bus, walking to the hair salon, getting in their cars. She wanted to go somewhere, to escape- but that wasn't possible. She was fifteen, with no source of income, no parent to truly rely on, and no one that could give her the help she needed.
The stress had been building, just beneath the skin, ready to break out at anytime. As anger, tears, nail biting, or chewing on her lip. She had never felt right to bother other people with her troubles. It didn't feel right to her, because honestly, they had their own problems, so why should she trouble them with hers? Wasn't it true that everyone was the center of their own universe?
The helplessness had been appearing more often lately. The realization that yes, she would have to wait three more years to get away from it, but that was so long… and until then, she was feeling claustrophobic. She couldn't breathe at home anymore, because her mother didn't like the sound of her life. Or at least, it felt that way.
She smiled coldly at the people on the street. They wouldn't know about the pain they caused her, even if they didn't intend to.
Her walls were stark white, since her mother had denied allowance to paint them with life, but her sheets were hot pink, almost red… and it was a beautiful color. It was passionate- feelings from the farthest corners of the heart, manifested and amplified into one color.
She turned up the volume, and grabbed the scissors off her desk, and before she had any qualms, she pressed the tip of the blade on her chest, right on the line from her old scar. It went from just above her breasts to the bottom of her rib cage. It was along this vertical scar that she cut the healed skin, straight down, five inches.
She bit her lip fiercely as the pain made her choke, and her soft grey shirt was quickly changing color. The scent was powerful, as its source was below her nose. She was never good with pain, and her breathing was speeding up so she figured she should finish before she started going into shock. The scissors clacked as they fell on the tile floor of her bedroom, along with spots of blood.
She dabbed her trembling fingers at her chest, hissing at the spots that were starting to dance over her eyes. Maybe this wasn't going to work out well… she was losing too much blood too fast.
As fast as she could, she drew a smiley face with a big X for eyes, in her life blood. The blood which was beginning to pound in her ears and she tumbled onto her bed. As the spots turned colors and filled more of her vision, she was glad she had left the window open, as she crawled over to it, letting blood soak onto her sheets and mattress as she leaned out her window, and vaguely recognized the next verse.
"So love me when I'm gone…" the music quickly died away as the wind whistled through her ears and the concrete was approaching rapidly. Droplets of blood followed her on her way down, and suddenly she wondered, would they feel bad-