January 20, 2012
By Anonymous

I felt my heart, tearing against my chest. My eyes burned with resisted tears. My hand clenched into a fist, my legs readied themselves for the blow. I brought my hand down, and cried out in pain. I welt formed beneath my fingers.

I sniffled, now relaxed. My legs were splotched with purple and black bruises, and it was hard to flex them. I pulled up my pants. I was afraid of blood, I could never cut. That would cause too much injury. This was my release.

I had tried to cut once. An exacto knife. I had pressed the dull side to my arm. The metal was cold and harsh, and I dropped the knife, afraid of myself.

Leaving the bathroom, I passed by the mirror. The girl who looked back was not me. Her eyes had sunken into her face, framed by dark purple circles. I hadn't slept. Tears had dried down my cheeks, and no longer left the black stains because I didn't care enough anymore to wear mascara. Who had I become?

I am not who I was. I had become the shadow of a girl, the weakling succumbed to the beast.

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