She stood there. Eyeing up the reflection. The refelction, that was all she saw of herself. Her eyes glanced downwards. Her small frame, barely a hundred pounds, maybe less. But to her always the same. Not good enough, not thin enough. Just a few more pounds she would tell herself. But it never was just a few more pounds. Her gaze altered to her arms. Her pale skin, a patchwork of scars. Nothing more. Each emotion mended with another patchwork cover. You'll be wearing short sleeves by summer, she would tell herself. But she never would find the strength. Her eys met those of her reflection. Those eyes that hid so much behind them, no one would know. That's how she liked it. No one knew what she'd done. No one ever saw what she saw, or felt what she felt. And no one ever would. Her eyes darted, mesmerised, back to her arm, watching the thin, scarlett trickle. so beautiful. She watched it form a drip She watched it fall, and splash, her cream coloured carpet now framed the bright circle perfectly. And then another, and another. Drip after drip, she watched them fall, draining her emotions away.