She leaves the house alone every night. To cry on her own in the dark. In peace. She has no friends to text because at the end of the day she can’t tell them everything. She’s out of the house getting exercise but she exercises until she can’t breath, until she can feel bone. She has bobbins all up her arms hiding cuts while she scratches her raw legs under the dinner table. The family see she is eating. Her friends at the cinema see it too. But what they don’t see, is the puke stained bathroom floor and the mouth ulcers from her own ***** forced up by only her. She starts cutting her tongue so it hurts even more too. She can’t focus on a movie because every **** second she’s wondering where she’ll cut next or how many pills she should take tonight. Or where she could find rope. The baby she lost last year holds memories. A time she could have been happy. The empty space where the baby should be Yet the void inside her is still so shallow. Her boundaries were broken growing up when her cousins fingers slipped inside. She was hurt again when she met the devil himself and fell in love only to find out he wanted her dead and once again bet her black and blue and left her open for the world to see. Only to find out he himself went to hell before she could.

And if only people knew this they might leave her alone.