She slides her key into the lock, and opens the front door. Her arms fall heavily to her sides after she locks the door behind her and she stares down at her feet. What now? She thinks. She starts to sweat and she pulls up her long sleeves, revealing her cuts and burns. She gazes down at her badly scarred but almost healed arms and the weight of the deppresion that had been a burden on her shoulders almost crushes her as it intesified as she looks upon her arm. I know what to do now. She lifts her matress and pulls out her small box cutter she hides away for herself and takes it to her bathroom. She strips down, turn the bath on and sits down. As the watee lapsed around her ankles and butt and extended the blade on the small box cutter and pressed it to the most healed part of her skin, right over a vein in her wrist. The sharp edge torn tears skin immediatly and drawed blood quickly. She presses down harder, feeling a distinct pop off a vain bursting. The blood rushes down her wrist, into the bath, staining it a pink colour. As she pulls it across, a wave of unbalance rocks her but she persists on and admites her work. She find more places, pressing hard, going deeper, relishing the pain and enjoying the sight of the blood rolling down her wrist, and into the water. She leans back in the bath, dizzy from the bloold lose. She feels like she hasnt hurt enough and he gets the hair curler. She plugs it in and waits until its hot. She opens the cupboard, and searches its contence, finding a full packet of sleeping pills there. Taking it out, she counts out 16 and lays them out next to each other, then fills up a glass of water. The curler beeps to signal it being warm amd she picks it up. She sucks in a deep breath and presses it hard agains her upper up, biting her lip and grimancing with pain. She leaves it there for 15 seconds and take it away quickly. The place where she burnt herself is already read and blistered, all the way across her upper arm. She looks back at the pills and pops 10 of them in her mouth, then swallows with a glass of water. A lone tear rolls down her check, smuding the makeuo she worked so hard tobapply for the boy, her boy. He never wanted me anyway, why did i bother with this stupid makeup! She grabs the curler and starts to hit it against her face, leaving bright red marks in its wake. The tears and blood begin to mingle down her thighs and she lays down on the cold, hard floor. She closes her eyes and thinks about him, what he did, and what he's made her become. Her mind swirls and turns off conpletly, setting her broken soul to rest. Her phone buzzes on the bathroom table. Its a message from him, it read "Hey, im comong over, we need to talk" 10 minutes later, a matte black car pulls up in her driveway. A tall boy gets out and approches the door. He knocks once, twice, then grabs the spare keys from underneath the doormat. "You home Celeste?" He calls and gets no repsonse. "Celeste?" He tries again. He starts to walk down the hallway to her room but see's the bathrom light om under the door and knocks, "Celeste sweetie, wee need to talk" He cooes. "Baby?" He opens the door and sees her in a pool of blood diluted by tear with Celeste lying in the centre.....
