Breaking Down

WARNING: TRIGGERS, SELF-HARM, ONE SWEAR WORD

It killed her.

Knowing that her hard work was simply brushed off.

Knowing that that girl had a special place in his heart.

Knowing that her parents were cheating on each other.

Knowing that her best friend was drifting away from her.

It just killed her.

Arianna Collins slapped herself hard to rid herself of these thoughts. She musn't, shouldn't think of these thoughts. After all, she had always acknowledged herself as a strong girl. She couldn't let herself succumb. She couldn't let herself crumble into pieces.

However, doing that was proven to be not an easy task when a tear cascaded on her pale cheek. Her eyes widened, as if the substance was completely foreign to her.

And as if the tear was a trigger, she broke down crying.

Falling.

Breaking.

She was tired of it.

She had had enough.

She just wanted for all of it to stop.

She was being selfish, she knew that.

But she just couldn't help it.

"I must've pissed someone off in my past life," the girl murmured, a crack in her voice. It was pitiful, the state she was in. She bitterly chuckled (how could she make lame jokes at a time like this, she wonders) and slowly stood up, staggering towards the full-body mirror on her wall.

She looked absolutely pathetic.

Her normally-flawless hair was a mess, brown strands sticking out here and there. Her eyes had dark bags under them, indicating lack of sleep for a long time. She squinted through her eyes, as if trying to get a good look at herself.

And spitted at the mirror.

God, she looked horrible.

"I-- I love myself," the lass stammered out, her tone as if convincing herself.

"My hair, oh my gosh, what is up with this hair...?" she furiously combed her hair with the use of her fingers, her eyes looking like a madman's. Her hair was extremely tangled, and would be difficult to fix, even with the best comb out there. But no matter, she would do it. She would do it right. This time.

When she was satisfied with the result, she patted her head. "Good girl, Mama would be so proud of you." She looked at her hands, then saw many hair strands had caught on it when she harshly combed her hair. "That's a lot of hair..." the girl whispered. "Should I change my conditioner...?"

She slowly removed the hair strands out of her fingers, counting them.

"Thirteen, huh..."

She looked at the mirror once again and smiled.

Only this smile was an ugly, forced one.

"P-papa said he loved my eyes... The brightest green shade he's ever seen, he said. Also, I'm beautiful, he said. Like Mama, he-he s-sa--"

Tears fell from her eyes. Oh, who was she kidding?

"O-oh, r-right. Papa doesn't love Mama anymore. Papa must think Mama is ugly, that's must be why. Then that must mean I'm u-ugly too."