Status: Completed.
You're Not Okay
I stared at the scars decorating my thin pale wrists. I was so used to seeing them there that I couldn't imagine them gone. I was addicted to that pleasant searing pain that showed me my true value.
Maybe these scars were a plea for help, but whatever they were no one was answering...
Written for this contest.
Maybe these scars were a plea for help, but whatever they were no one was answering...
Written for this contest.