Chapter Three: Cuts
She swung her legs over the bed, and opened up the drawer in her nightstand. Her two friends lay in it. A razor blade, and a small knife. They had been the only friends she'd had since the month she started high school. Only getting worse since her father abused her, and her mother just didn't care.
She lifted her sleeves up, pushing them back to her elbows. Her wrists were covered in scars, and scabbed over cuts. She traced her veins down her arms. She glanced back up at her drawer. She carefully grabbed the razor blade, and held it in her hand. She got off the bed, an into her bathroom. She stood at the sink, looking in the mirror taking in her appearance.
Her long, wavy, black hair was in knots. Her normally hazel eyes were red, puffy, and blood shot. She sat the blade down. She turned to the side and lifted up her shirt. She grabbed at the fat that clutched at her stomach. "I'm fat and ugly." She whispered. She sighed, and pulled her shirt down.
She clutched the blade in her hand once again. "Here I go." She said, placing the edge of blade to her right wrist, adding pressure, and dragging it to the left. The crimson, red blood trickled down her skin. A tear falling down her face.
Two Cuts.
Three Cuts.
Four Cuts.
Five Cuts.
Five cuts total on her left wrist. It made her forget. Forget the bullies, her parents, and the loneliness. Tears ran down her face, falling into the sink. On her left wrist,
One Cut.
Two Cuts.
Three Cuts.
Four cuts.
Four cuts on her right wrist. She rinsed off the blade, and sat it on the edge of the sink. Brianna got into the medicine cabinet, and grabbed the gauze. She rinsed off both her wrists, and dried them only to wrap gauze around them. She put the gauze back in the cabinet, and leaned against the wall. Tears fell in streams down her face. Her wrists stung. She slid down the wall. 'I want to end it. End it all.' Brianna told herself.