Crimson drops seep from the slits on my wrist. I run the blade across again and feel the skin tearing, breaking, giving in. Images of my betrayers flash through my mind and I try to suppress them. Their cruel voices flood my ears once more, the vicious words replaying in my head. Stop! Don't do this. Don't listen to them, I tell myself, but it's too late. The blade slides over my skin once more, this time releasing a flood of scarlet that cascades down my forearm. I hear them talking about me, I hear their whispers: She's selfish and cynical. I can't talk to her about anything. If anyone's the lesbian, it's her. She's so emo. She'd be the one to shoot everyone at school. She's satanic. She's such a liar. Just get out of our lives. I hate her. I'm so glad I finally started ignoring her. What a desperate freak. Their lies sneak into my brain and take over my sense of logic. It isn't true, I tell myself. You're not what they say you are. You're none of those things. Don't listen to it. Don't let them do this to you. Slowly, though, I'm giving in. I believe them. I sit in the middle of the bathroom watching the blood swirl as it pools on my wrist. Again, again. You need more, more. A voice in my head taunts me. No one will know until you're gone. Your secret's safe. It whispers commands to go too far, to cut too deep, past the point of no return. No. No I can't… I won't. Not tonight. I'm not strong enough to end it. I'm not… Thoughts tumble through my head as I fade. My vision blurs, my hearing gets fuzzy. I feel dizzy, lightheaded. The room spins back and forth, changing direction and making my head pound. Just before the last remnants of consciousness slip away, my senses flood back and everything becomes clear again. A faint trickle of red still flows from the slashes on my arm. I blot it with a tissue until the bleeding subsides. My knees shake as I stand up and steady myself on the counter. I pull the black sleeve of my hoodie over my arm where it will remain until the wounds heal and all that's left are scars.