Katniss POV
I walk to school with my black book bag slung on my shoulder. It's hot, and my long sleeved shirt doesn't make it any better. The reason I wear long sleeved shirts is so no one sees my cuts. I pull the soft black shirt sleeves over my hands, my fingers just peeking out a bit. My friends all think I should stop cutting and such and be happy, but who are they to say when it's my life? Okay. That was harsh but you get what I mean don't you? The only reason I don't just kill myself is two reasons. One, my friends say they would go and I quote "Cray-cray." Second, giving up would me too easy. "Hey Kat." I hear someone call. I see the group. "Hey," mumble. "How many?" She asks. She's referring to how many times I cut last night. "Six," I mumble, again. I barely ever talk loud. We walk and I see the rest of the group. Finnick, Johanna, Marvel, Glimmer, Clove, Finch or Foxface, Cato, and Gale. "How many?" They all ask. Why do they want to know?" "Six," I say, quietly. "Please stop," Finnick says. "No," I reply. This is my life. Right here. Right now. But I don't want to live it.
😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘
Is it good? Sorry it's short.
Should I continue?
Answer these questions please.
Kisses and Best Wishes,
Roxana🐙