• a tear ran down her cheek as her fake smile faded."i cant do this anymore, this lying, all the stories."
    she was sitting in her closet, at two in the morning, with only herself, a note, and a razor. she folded the note gently, with a love that faded and withered years ago, and picked up her favored item. her razor and began gashing her arms to ribbons.



    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    the next day at school.

    her friends were told by the school counselor what had happened.
    "you're friend, last night, had mutilated herself until she lost almost all of her blood. she is in the hospital. you may visit her and take your classes tomorrow."

    at this news, the friends were saddened and angry that she didnt go to them with her problems.

    ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

    in the hospital that same day, the group head to their friends room.
    as they enter, she is hooked to a needle, connecting her to a blood transfusion.
    a machine, monitoring her heart, was beeping slowly, but steadily.
    her face was ashen, her arms paler than the sheets she lay upon.
    the guy she liked, came up to her, put his hand in hers and bent to ask a question at her ear.
    "why didnt you come to us? you know that you can."
    she closed her eyes and told the others to shoo, in a voice no louder than silk on tile, and told him everything.

    +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


    she had lived with a mother that was beaten, and she was beaten herself.
    abuse both sexually and physically.
    there was hardly any food in the house.
    he wondered about when he and his buddies came to hang out.
    she told him that she cleaned up everything. put food in the fridge by using a tab at the jiffy store, and that she borrowed a vacuum, and everything she needed to do.
    her room was decorated using discarded things.
    just to get by for a week required bartering with anyone.
    "everything you know about me, is not me.
    its all a cover, a story, a facade.
    i want you to know about the real me, not the me who seems cool and confident about everything, but the me who has to barter her best pair of pants for a fridge full of half eaten food."


    %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%


    her breathing slowed as she gasped for the air that didnt seem to be there.
    a nurse came in and covered her face with an oxygen mask, her breathing quickened to a normal pace.
    he grabbed a chair from the room next door and sat it next to her bed, only leaving for eating, going to the bathroom, and giving updates to his friends.
    his schoolwork was brought to him, and he stayed there a week.
    hardly leaving her side, he talked her through her whole life, as far back as she could remember.
    they talked about his life, and she wished, desperately, to live with him, not in poverty, but with a family that cared, one with food, and clothes to last her more than a week.