Short story about suicide


1. 18

I saw her cuts, as I was walking towards her in the club. She was sitting at the bar, with some empty tequila shots in front of her.

,,Hey, what's your name?'' I asked, as I sat down by her side.

,,I'm Sarah'' She answered me. She wasn't looking up though.

,,How old are you, Sarah?'' I asked her. 

,,eighteen'' She answered. Still looking down. 

I looked at her scars.

,,You're only eighteen?'' I asked her. 

,,Yes'' She answered. She had a voice like a little girl. Innocent, weak and scared.

,,So.. When are you turning nineteen?'' I asked, and smiled at her. 

She was still looking down. She was quiet for a few seconds.

,,I'm not'' She answered.

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