She sits alone in a crowded room, with scars you only see on t.v. Nobody cares enough to ask her how she got them.. They just stare like she's some kind of freak. She gets nervous, then lowers her head.
As she starts to shuffle her feet the urge comes back. She had just gotten over it. She scratches at her scabs willing the blood to flow, maybe she is a freak. Looking at all of these people, with their perfections. They don't have scars up and down their arms. They're "normal."
Why'd she start this in the first place? It's no longer something used for an escape.. it's an addiction. She's crowded in an empty room. Voices fill her head telling her to go further. They push. Then they've pushed too far.
How'd she end up like this ; bathing in Scarlet Red?. She's alone. In the dark.. with nowhere to go, but up