AN This is just a one-shot, it's something that was on my mind... and yeah. Dont worry, Im fine, its just this was waiting to get out. If you ever feel like this, make sure you talk to someone you trust about it. I know it's hard to, but you'll be better off, believe me. Maybe you could even see a counsellor, they are great at helping and making you feel better. (yes I know its short but oh well)

- cut -

She stares down at it. It speaks to her, some way, some how. She listens, straining to hear what it's saying. It appears to be saying something rather discomforting, you can tell from the way she scrunches up her nose in disgust, the tears start appearing in her grey eyes.

She gets that sinking feeling in her stomach. That feeling. Pain. Not pain. More like worthlessness, burying a hole in her stomach, gnawing her insides. She hastily gathers her stuff, putting them in her bag. Moving towards the door, she suddenly trips, her bag falls and spills all its content out in front of her. But she's had enough, she runs through the open door, and she's falling. The tears run down now, silent trails of salt leaving puddles on her pert nose. She wipes away at her tears, they're making her vision blurring. Running, heaving, panting, where to? She spots a sign, the woman's room. Pushing the heavy door open, she steps inside and smells the stench of urine. In a cubicle, she leans on the tile wall and slides down. She stares up, seems to be pleading with heaven in some way. Her tears subside slowly, slowly, the monster of pain within her backs away into its cage. Reaching into her pocket for a tissue, her hand finds something else. Plastic and slender. She takes it out. Her old pocket knife. The pain flares up again; her heart cries out. Slowly, trembling, she pushes the blade out of its sheath. Her left wrist rises up, and subconsciously, she's doing it. The pain sears in her left wrist, it takes over and she lets herself fall… again.