It's midnight. Lights are turned off; there's total darkness in the room.
She playfully places the razor blade near her skin.
She's in pain. She can't handle it anymore.
She opens her left palm and slowly makes a cut. A deep one.
The smell of rust fills the room.
She smiles.
It's not her first time. She did this several times even when she's younger.
Her scars are invisible, but they're there.
As if her body's asking for another, she makes another slit, now on her wrist.
She feels the blood gushing from her arm.
She's finally calming down.
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