Broken Strings

E X T R A C H A P T E R

She glanced up at the mirror and stared at her reflection.

Pathetic.

She didn't feel beautiful. There wasn't anything special about her, not one bit.

Andrew's mistress, she was beautiful. With short, blonde hair and bright green eyes.

But Anisha? Anisha was plain.

Her hair was long and dark. Her eyes were brown, dull, always filled with tears.

Anisha had always wondered what so special about Amanda. What Amanda had that Anisha didn't.

She looked at herself again and let out a pathetic laugh.

Fucking pathetic.

The question wasn't what Amanda had that Anisha didn't. Anisha already knew the answer to that.

Amanda had everything Anisha didn't.

Anisha wasn't pretty. She wasn't confident. She wasn't likeable. She wasn't anything.

She was always too much or too little.

But Amanda, Amanda was perfect.

Amanda was pretty. Amanda was confident. Amanda was likeable.

That was why Andrew wanted Amanda, not Anisha.

She pulled her top off, leaving her in a lace bra, and placed her hand on her stomach.

No, she definitely wasn't pretty.

Maybe it was the extra fat she had gained from carrying his daughter. Five months later, the stretch marks on her stomach were still obvious.

But Amanda, Amanda was young and beautiful.

Amanda was thin. Thin and tall.

Anisha wasn't. She wasn't anything special, especially compared to Amanda.

Or maybe it was because Anisha was too plain. She wasn't the kind of girl guys like Andrew chased.

Maybe, she really was worthless. No one wanted her. No one loved her.

Everyone would be fine without her.

Her parents were disappointed in her. Andrew hated her.

Things would be so much easier, for her and for everyone else, if she just ended everything.

Anisha opened the third drawer and pulled out the first lipstick she could get her hands on. She ran it across her lips, highlighting her lips with a bright shade of peach lipstick.

She was pretty. She wanted to fell pretty.

Instead, she felt pathetic as she colored her lips. The color was wrong. It looked wrong on her.

Anisha Hayes was definitely not pretty.

She looked pathetic, standing there and staring back at herself. Soft sobs escaped her lips, once again. But this time, there was no turning back.

Her cries slowly got louder. And the voices, they got harsher.

She was begging for someone to save her. She was begging for someone to love her.

But no one could hear her. And no one wanted to save her.

She grabbed the razor and pressed it against her wrist. The red blood immediately rushing out.

It helped. Cutting her wrists helped.

Because this was the only time she could silence the voices in her head.