There was once a girl who was constantly bullied and abused by her father. She had lost her mother by heart attack, her brother by car crash, and her newborn sister by a deadly birth deformity. She was so scarred and hurt. But in more than one way. She was a self harmer. Going through the toughest time anyone could imagine. But if you've never done it, I'll explain to you. It's like a constant pulling rope. You try to get away from it, but it pulls you in further and further each time. And scarring you while it's at it. And the scars don't fade.
One day she came home to her dad laying passed out on the kitchen floor with a cracked beer bottle in his hand. She sighed. This was almost normal for her. She walked up into her room and glanced at her computer. She was almost afraid to go on it, afraid of what people would message her. She instead layed on her bed, trying to block out horrible memories of her mother's death. Her lying in the bed, motionless. Tears started streaming down her cheeks. She couldn't hold it in anymore.
She ran into the bathroom and opened the cabinets. She looked at the razor laying there, calling out to her. She tried to resist, but her thoughts won. She grabbed the razor and layed it on the bath. She sat down on the toilet seat and slid the razor across her wrist, letting the hot blood flow down her arm, dripping onto the bathroom floor. She went into the basement and grabbed a rope and a chair. She slowly dragged the chair up the stairs, with the rope around her arm. Her dad was still passed out. He might be dead. But why does anything matter anymore? She wanted to be numb from all of this emotional pain. She went into the living room and worked on making the rope into a noose and tying the top of it to the base of the ceiling fan. She placed the chair under the noose and stood on it. She grabbed the noose and slid it over her neck. Then she stepped off of the chair.
This girl was unnamed, it could be whoever you want, because this could happen to anyone.
