Sticks and Stones
- Reads 13
- Votes 2
- Parts 1
Everything was great. Who could possibly send these and why won't they tell me. I can't handle it. My eyes fill up with tears and I grab the nearest thing. The knife I keep in my dresser. The mascara runs down my cheeks and the knife slices through my wrist cleanly and blood drawls from the wound. With each cut I feel a little bit better. I stop and look at the new cuts and the old scars from old ones and I fill up with guilt and sadness. Tears flow like waterfalls and run my mascara down my face as yelps of sadness erupt from my mouth. Someone help me.
"Emlyn! are u alright in there?" Calls my mom.
"I'm fine." I reply, staring at the oozing blood coming from my arms.
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#739
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