Who cares? Just kiss me.

The Lonely Swingset

The swing set, yes that wooden slate held by two ropes wrapped on a branch, a perfect seat for the girl to sit alone. Once a place of fun and warm laughter heard, reduced to a cold place where the only sound heard was the creaking and squeaking of the swing. She'd come to sit alone, whenever the time she felt like she needed to. (Y/n) would swing silently, her hair being gently tussled when she swung back and fourth, sometimes a small hum being released into the wind. She was 15, a sad girl as she lived with her father and step-mother, plus her arrogant step-sister. Her father only caring about the game, her step-mother only worrying how to satisfy the man of the house, then her step-sister who only cared about finding her newest boy-toy. Image having to sneak out of the room and out the back door to outside, where no one went, just to get away from the buzzing air that suffocated her everyday. It was hell after her real mother passe away two years ago, when (Y/n) was 13, when her terrible habit started. Sneaking outside where she would satisfy her emotional pain with physical pain, a small box hidden at the base of the tree.

She held a red cloth to her wrist, absorbing the rich red liquid that dripped gently from her newest feature. The box was old and black, now more of a brow-red from being buried in the undergrowth and taking out multiple times again. Inside withheld two razors, a sharpener, two red cloths, and band-aids, plus other minor medical things to help treat small wounds. She was so young to go through a damned thing. No one thinks that the mentality of a teen is something to fret over, but it desperately is. This girl was going through a bundle of emotions, tears always threatening to slip down her cheeks, thinking she was useless and a waste of space. No one ever asked about the pain she went through, none of her friends questioned if she was suicidal, but, at least she wasn't; she'd rather kill others than herself, she liked herself, she thought that she was pretty she was fairly secure with her looks, not that she'd get complemented or anything, but she was fine with it. A small sigh escaped the girls lips as she removed the red cloth, looking down at her wound, the red liquid had stopped. Her skin red around the wounded area, irritated and scratched, on accident opening previous wounds.
"That's why it had bled more this time..." She said softly, her voice slight raspy as she had held back her tears, but she was used to the feeling at this point. "Just three more years then I can move out and get away from here..."
She sighed out, tending to her wound so it wouldn't get infected. Burring the box away, she found a rock and place it atop the small mound of dirt, claiming she would stop, before she walked back inside and to her room.