You're worthless. You're ugly. No one ever will want to go near you. You're fat.
The voice in her head continued to chant scornful observations, forcing her to listen. As much as Olivia fought to get the voice to shut up, it went on, and it even seemed to mock her with its tone.
"Shut up," she mumbled to herself.
Your voice is way too low for a girl, the voice snapped back, cackling.
Her fingers went to comb through her hair, but they stopped midway to plant themselves at her scalp. "Please," she begged it. "Please let me go through one day without hating myself."
You're pathetic. You're crazy. You're talking to yourself, it sang. Why are you breathing?
Her nails dug into her skin, but she barely cared anymore. The blemishes staining her arms in perfect rows had made her immune to most pains, the one advantage in a world of self-hatred.
Seriously, why continue? Just grab some pills and kill yourself. Free everyone of the burden.
Olivia sighed, her breath shaking as tears turned her eyes into black waterfalls from the makeup she was wearing. The makeup ironically had been used to hide her pain, yet it was now spilling down her face and ruining her, just as that pain had done.
It was as if she didn't even control her body anymore. She found herself over the sink a second later, a pill bottle in her hand and a paper cup in the other. She hesitated, but as the voice started to encourage her some more, thinking she was backing out, she snapped, "Let me make the shots, okay? You have controlled me for a large majority of my life, but now I want to control how I escape. At least let me have that satisfaction."
The voice continued to grumble, but she went through her makeup and found her favorite lipstick, which was in a plum shade. Shaking, Olivia wrote out something on the mirror, and praying it was eligible, she picked the bottle up again.
"Okay. I'm ready."
