As I cried in the bathroom, I though of everything that had happened that day.

Slaps and Hits and Cuts.

The pain was small compared to the pain my heart felt that moment.

The pain of a broken heart.

Tears made their way down my cheek, flowing like small rivers on my face.

I tightened my grip around the razor blade and lifted it to my wrist.

I dug it in and watched as the red river flowed down my arm and as the drops fell from the side of my hand to the floor staining its beautiful white life.

How I wished my life were that white instead of red streaks down my arm. - Isabella M.