This is a short story that I'm writing for Language Arts class.
I'll post the full story when I finish it.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She steps onto the cold tile floor and pads across the room. She silently sits on the plush window seat that faces the park. She inhales shallow breaths because she is on the 12th floor and heights terrify her.
She turns away from the window and glances at the white walls. The tiny room is scaring her already, but what is even scarier to her is the reason why she’s in the room – she’s a cutter.
She closes her eyes. Visions of a razor, scratches, blood and lies fill her head. Lying got her nowhere. It only pushed her further into the darkness.
Her eyes snap open and she traces the scars that trail across her body. She knows she came close to dying. What had stopped her?
Someone must have found her because the last thing she remembered was falling to the floor of her bedroom. When she woke up, she was bandaged and being wheeled to the white room. She then realizes that the plastic-filled room makes it suicide proof.
A knock sounds on the door and a nurse comes in. “We are here to help you.”
Thoughts buzz through her head. Do I want help? Why didn’t I die like I was supposed to?
She forces a smile for the nurse, while she keeps struggling to hide her pain.
