paper cuts

 

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 She faded in and out of consciousness as her mother cradled her small shaking body in a blanket. The faint sound of sirens could be heard in the background. She hoped they wouldn’t get to her house in time; she didn’t want to be saved. While her skin became cold a small pool of blood formed on floor beneath her.

For the first time she had cut too deep.  It all started in sixth grade with thin scratches, many only an inch or two long, that she could easily blame on her cat. These scratches never really bled but were noticeable enough that she felt the need to keep them tucked away under her sleeves.

The scratches were the result of a nervous habit she developed to cope with stress; it was so normal to her after a while it became a subconscious act. She would turn to hurting herself for everything, from the stress of her grades dropping to her compromised body image.Once the scratching no longer calmed her down, she turned to a more a serious form of self harm: cutting her arms. She was so desperate to release the pain she used the same razor she used to shave her legs. every time she cut she felt easier she felt better about herself she felt as if the stress had gone away and for a while it had but then it came back and her cuts got longer and deeper, the blood would run down  the stone white sink turning colder and colder as it went. her mind was numb with pain and her feelings were broken, scattered across the floor as if no one cared about them. she’s gone, gone forever there is no coming back, what was she thinking what was going on in her mind but no one will ever know how much she was hurting inside.shes dead dead forever......



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