They stare. Stare at her face that once used to be full of happiness and sunshine, that is now a dark, dirty graveyard. The scars she thought made her ugly, were another persons idea of perfect. The scars had shown that she had lived another day, that she had shown she was strong enough to make it.
Nobody knows her name, or where shes from. All they know is that she'll be gone soon, and they would have done nothing to stop it. Put an end to all of the abuse. They would have watched the endless, silent, crucial suffering of a once innocent, beautiful young woman, end in such a horrid, scarring way.
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*
