They were just like the scars Belle received from her classmates' bullying calls, on the inside. Except these scars were on the outside, on her arms and legs.
She didn't always have scars on her body, or on her soul. But when her parents died, she couldn't handle it. She withdrew from everyone. Her eyes weren't as sparkly as they had been, her stomach not as flat, her thighs not as thin, her face not as make-up caked.
Her scars were simply made. She just used a disposable razor. They always hurt, but it wasn't as bad as it had been earlier in her life.
Depression wasn't easy on her, nor were her peers who judged her. The bullying hurt, and she knew they wouldn't stop.
But they did. When her grandma found her lying on the floor of her bathroom, dead, blood pooling around her from cuts on her arms and legs. Oh yes, they stopped the bullying, but it was too late. Because it had cut too deep, like the razor had.
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories/Dreams
Cerita PendekHere's a book of short stories. I'll put in some of my freaky dreams and everything, including other genres such as romance and adventure, and some depressing feel stories. It might be a little gruesome, frightening, or downright mental. Don't call...
