#1
As of now, that's just a working title. I really don't know what to call it, and it's a totally different style than that of my other stuff. So. Comments are definitely welcome, why else would I post? Anyway, here tis...

She stands in a pile of broken glass, the echos ricochet off the shadowed walls. Seven years of misfortune but it's better than the silent agony she's endured for so long now. Her hand bleeds from the impact. She steals out of the room and runs out of the empty house into the dark and moonless night, not knowing or caring what lies beyond her next step. And as a hand grasps her shoulder, she turns to face--

--Him.

And she remembers a day that they were so close they were almost one,
And she remembers what it was to be held so tenderly...

She hates the monster she's become, hidden away and forgotten for so many years. She despises but holds dear the scars that grace her wrists, and she longs to bleed. She wants to feel alive again, but no one hears her tears, her screams, the pleas for mercy. Leave her alone so we can move on, she's just a minor interruption. Emo kid, she slits her wrists like the rest of them, and why should we care? She's a stereotype to all of us, to everyone but--

--Him.

And she remembers a day that they were so close they were almost one,
And she remembers what it was to be held so tenderly...