Regretfully into the pillow she cries, her back being slashed with her fathers old belt.
"I'm sorry, sorry." She prays that her word was heard.
Drug and alcohol abuse runs in her veins, the filth of the dirty thoughts cutting and slicing through her brain. The ticking never stops, the voices never silence; her skin wrapping her frame shattering when the frayed edges of a belt snap at her back, nipping her cheeks and biting her arms.
YOU ARE READING
The Dead Her.
Short StoryDepression, Anxiety, ADD, Suicidal Ideation, and Abuse all lead to one thing: An unhealthy, and quite potentially deadly living style. *MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING* *COMPLETED* *WATTTYS2017*
