The reflection staring back at her disgusted her. Almost laughing at her. She is not her. The dressing table was messy with cosmetic products, all different colors and size like messed up jigsaw puzzles a five year old has given up. Sitting and sobbing , her tears run down leaving a faded water stain on her smeared pink cheeks . Her face twisted in deep thoughts . Battling herself inside she picks up the shiny 30cents blade which shoned the brightest among the plastic cases unevenly thrown about. Her hands shivered and her eyes teared up even more as the cold blade touched the tips of her fingers. Was this her only solution? She was alone and lost and the promises of death tempted her with freedom. All sorts of freedom. As she brought the blade nearer to her wrist, her warm fingers touched her skin and it made her cry even more. It reminded her that she was still alive. She steadied herself and her fingers as she placed the blade just above the star tattoo. Her tears couldn’t help her no more. This is the point of no return. She closed her eyes and let her fingers take control.
.JPG)
