As the blade slowly but deeply slid across my bare skin I could feel the blood bursting out. No way I couldn't stop rapidly sliding the blade over and over across my wrist. I finally stopped and realized that blood was getting all over my shirt. I rushed to the bathroom and drenched the blood in a towel. The cuts wouldn't stop bleeding no matter what I did. I heard my mother's car drive up in front of my house and I quickly pulled my sleeve down and went back to my room.
"I'm home!" I hear my mother call from down stairs. I can hear her heels clicking across the hard wood. I pulled my uniform skirt down too make sure it reached my knees. I pulled my high knee socks up and went calmly down the stairs. As I reached the bottom of the stairs I spot my perfect twin sister Rebecca.
Your probably thinking I'm calling myself perfect because she's my twin but trust me I'm not. Im far from perfect. My sister on the other hand was flawless. She was popular, beautiful, gets any guy she wants, and has no problems with life.
But then theres me.
Marisa. A 17 year old who self harms, stuck in this world, & feels alone.
But no one knows.
The me people think I am is a happy girl who gets the best grades and has the best life because my family is rich. But people need to realize that money doesn't make you happy. I go to a private school with perfect boys and girls. Everyone is happy. Everyone thinks I'm happy. But I just put on a show with my fake smile. I mean a fake smile hides everything right?
"How was your day sweetie." My mother greets me while placing a kiss on my forehead.
"Great." I lied. I planted my fake smile to hide everything.
My mother walks into the kitchen and I can tell my sister is day dreaming about some boy because she is twisting her wavy hair with her fingers.
"What boy are you thinking about now?" I asked annoyed.
"Oh shut up. At least I can get one." She responds with her snotty attitude. This was your typical rich teenager.
You would think I would be mad but honestly I I'm used to her remarks so I stopped caring. I wish I could stop caring about other people who call me names.
"Your lucky mother didn't hear that." I said to myself hoping she wouldn't hear me.
"You think I care what mother thinks?" She said looking down at her phone and smiling.
I looked to see if my mother heard but she didn't. As usual.
I turned around and ran up stairs. I had to get away from her because sometimes I just want to slap her but I know I would never do that.
As I reached my room I took a look around my room and admired the posters that covered my old pink walls from when I was younger. Images from when I was younger flew across my mind. These were the real memories from when I was happy.
