Her

She lies there at night, with tears rolling down her face. No one knows why as she will not tell. She just hurts and cries. Causes external pain to herself, to take away internal pain. She lays there, in nothing but her underwear, examining her scars, blade in hand. She puts the blade to her skin. Not for attention but for self release. The blade drags across her skin as the beads of deep red fluid slowly escape. She sheds another tear.
She feels as though there's no way out, no way to heal. She grabs her bag to pull out a cigarette, followed by a lighter. She lights the death stick as she puts it to her lips. Inhale...Exhale... Her tears slowly fade as the nicotine circulates her body. A little more pain escaping her body every time she exhales. She stands up to look in the mirror. Looking herself in the eye, another tear escapes, rolling down her fragile cheeks.
She examines herself in the mirror. Tracing her finger tips over every scar, bruise and cut. She finds a space that hasn't been marked. one last drag of her cigarette. she lowers the butt down to her leg. A faint gasp left her lips as she burnt her skin. This isn't enough. Her craving for pain is back again. She needs to find something else. Her eyes examine the blade she left on her bed. She shakes her head.
She enters a draw, to find an old scarf.
She ties the ends together. Her eyes scroll round her room. A hook on the wall. A chair by her desk.
1...2....3
She kicks the chair away.
Her gasps of breath fade every second.
She's better off now.
Little did she know, she was never alone...