Fake Smile. Real Pain.

When she started she only used a pair of scissors and only made a few small cuts. But she didn't cut on her wrist. Not her thighs, not her arms, not her stomach. In a weird place but it's easy to hide, her feet. They were small, only looked like she got scratched by a small dog. Now? Well now she cuts on her wrist, arms, legs, stomach, thighs. Bigger and a little deeper.

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4. Chaper 4

[Two weeks later]

It has been two weeks since Austin got to our school and remember what I said? That he will become popular instantly? Well, that was true. He is one of the most popular guys now and he tried out for football. But surprisingly, he will still talk to me and Savannah. He also realized that it's not because I'm not hungry but it's because I starve myself. I asked him how he found out and all he said was, "I'm smart."

"I'll see you later!" Savannah calls out as we go opposite directions.

****

I walk around my room trying to get my mind off of things but I can't help but remember. I glance up to the picture of me and my grandpa, my last picture with him when I was thirteen.

*Flashback*

We were told that my grandpa had cancer awhile ago but it has really gotten to him lately. He stopped doing cancer treatments cause he doesn't want to suffer. That hurt me. It meant he was going to die soon, cancer defeating him. He became confused and weak, taking lots of medicine. He said he only wanted to survive until my aunt's wedding, then he would have gotten to watch his daughters walk down the aisle and he would be happy enough to pass away.

Well, it's past my aunt's wedding and everyone sees how weak he is. So very weak. I was the one who spoke up, "Please, I want one more picture with him." I got my wish. He sits in his comfy, old, brown chair and I sit on the arm. He smiles and I do too. My mom takes the picture with my grandma watching, tears in her eyes and she tried to take in everything that is happening. The flash blinding both me and my grandpa for just a second.

****

I left my grandparent's house around nine. And I sat in my room at my dad's and I cut. I cried a pool of tears. I remembered the memories with him and stared at the picture that I just took with him for hours. It finally became one in the morning and I decided to try to sleep when I hear my phone buzz. I quickly answer it, "Morgan..." My mom sniffles through the phone.

"Mom, have you been crying?" I question wondering if her and her boyfriend got into a fight or something.

"Sweetheart, he passed away." My mom whispers so softly into the phone I almost couldn't hear it.

I shake my head, "No. No." I say holding back the tears,

"I'm so sorry." She chokes. I quickly hang up and drop the phone on my bed. I slip out of bed and grab the one thing that is calling my name, my blade. I stare at it with tears pouring down my cheeks before I cut, again and again. Taking the emotional pain away and only leaving the physical pain. Making me feel a little better.

*Flashback Over*

I find myself in a pool full of salty tears. So many painful memories, painful reasons on why I self harm. There is so much pain. What do I do at a time like this? I search around for my blade. It has came to the point where I don't want the blade, I need it.

 

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