It was another typical day. Go to school, meet with the bullies and go home sitting in the corner while crying.
She went to the kitchen and decided to do the usual: creating scars in various parts of her body.
This time, she wanted to do it at her leg, so nobody would try to pull her pants up just to see the cuts like what happened earlier when she cut her arm. People took off her jacket and laughed at the red marks.
She found it disgraceful, for they didn't know what she had been through.
Scritch scratch, the sound of the knife that was shearing her skin.
And once again, her mother came in.
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Scars she carried
General FictionShe was depressed. She let out her sadness with scars. Her blood was her happiness. Unfortunately, it was lost. The blade was her enemy. However, she became its friend. She couldn't stop thinking about the man in the moon.
