Before I can think she has drawn up her own hands, and in a chaotic motion sweeps them down her own arm. Streaks of red appear, which only makes her want there to be more.
I shriek in delight.
YES! YES MY DARLING YOU MUST BE PUNISHED. UNLOVED. HATED. STUPID. GUILTY.
Round and round her head my words dance.
Again and again she does it. Her eyes are wild, her teeth are clenched tightly. No tears flow down her face, she's furious. Furious at herself. Furious at what she has become. She doesn't even feel the pain. She only feels relief.
She collapses on her bed, and begins sobbing. She draws up her knees to her face, her beautiful hair about her. The mascara that painted the perfect face is now running down cheeks.
Won't somebody help me?
She whispers only to darkness.
Your on your own kid.