"You keep it on the inside because that's the safest place to hide."
Song: Lost Boy by Ruth B

~~~

          I bit my tongue as the water rushed across the wound. I smiled down at my many scars and my new wound. It was deep enough to leave a faint scar. I dabbed the wound with a paper towel and carefully placed a band-aid on it.

          I washed the knife I had used to cut myself to wash off the blood. This was my way of relieving my depression and stress. Cutting myself. Sometimes when I was happy I forgot that my scars even existed. But when I got depressed, these scars gave me happiness. They show what I have been through and what I'm going through. They show that I'm a fighter and survivor.

          I smiled as I lightly traced my scars with my fingers. Most of them were healed. Only a couple were still in the process of healing. Whenever my parents asked my I had a band-aid on my wrist (which wasn't very often), I lied that I had scratched myself somewhere or cut myself while cooking. I always managed to cook up a lie. Something I was good at and not proud of. My parents never realized that every time I 'cut' myself, it was diagonal slashed across my wrist.

          Not that I cared that they noticed. I had stopped caring a long time ago. When I realized that they didn't care for me. It had took some time, lots of tears, and lots of ice-cream to get used to it but I got through it. It was a tough time but I got through it like the survivor I am.

          I cleaned up my sink and left the knife at it's respective position. It had been 3 years and nobody doubted a thing. Nobody knew that I abused myself or was depressed. I had no friends in school. I just talked to some people but I was that loner who sat alone outside at the courtyard during lunch. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing did. Except for my grades. I had gotten used to it. My loneliness and the feeling that no one cared about me led to my depression. It took most of me to embrace it but I still did it.

          I pushed my dull chocolate brown hair out of my eyes. I was bored out of my mind. I took the book I was currently reading out of my bag. It was interesting. Books pulled me into my very own world, far away from reality. It showed me a world where impossible things happened, where I had no worries and I could watch everyone live a perfect life. Everyone had a happy ending. Whether they survived or not, they were happy till the end. Books were my utopia. My very own world.

          As I flipped through the pages of the book, I saw my phone vibrate. It was a call from my one and only best friend Lily Rose Walker. "Hello? Lily?" I asked after picking up my phone. "Hope!" I heard a squeal from the other end. I chuckled softly. It has been forever since I had talked to her. "Hey. How are you? It has been forever since we spoke," I asked softly. Although Lily was my best friend, she never knew that I was depressed. It was a secret which was only mine to have and know. "Hey Hope! I'm good. What about you?" she asked.

          We talked for awhile. We didn't have much to talk about. Lily had moved away about 9 years ago. We were like sisters, inseparable. I met her in 3rd grade. I was sitting alone and she came up to me as she was the new kid and had no on else to sit with. We hit of immediately. Both of us had the same interests. A year later, she moved away again. It hurt a lot but the pain receded slowly. We had drifted apart slowly as years went on. We didn't text or call as much anymore. I still thought of her as my best friend though. My first and best friend.

          I smiled at those thoughts. Those were the good days, when I was happy and free. When I didn't have a care in the world. When I thought that if I were hurt, someone would care. I scoffed. The good days. More like the days when I didn't realize the harsh reality of the world. I placed my book down and went down to the kitchen. The house was empty. My parents were probably at work and my brother at another party. When I was younger, I had wanted to be home alone so bad. To have the entire house to myself to do whatever I wanted. Now, all I wanted was for someone else to be here. With me. To let me know that I wasn't lonely.

          I made myself a sandwich for dinner. It had been a long time since we had a nice family dinner. The last time we had one was when grandma came to town and that was about two years ago. I checked my Instagram and Snapchat while I bit into my sandwich. I didn't have much friends on social media either. Just about 100 people. People who saw glimpses of me at school or knew me as the weirdo who had a 6.5 GPA. It wasn't much but it was all I had. I smiled as I scrolled past a post which had my brother and his new girlfriend. By next week, the picture would be taken down and my brother would have a new girl on his arms. My brother wasn't a player but he just couldn't decide or settle.

          I finished my sandwich and washed my plate. I went back up to my room and continued reading my book. I felt yawns escaping my mouth as I shut the book. I was about 10 p.m. I felt sleepy as I packed my bag for the next day and headed to bed. I wasn't anticipating anything exciting at school tomorrow. Every day was the usual. People who went by without knowing I existed, perfecting my grades, being a loner, and more depressing stuff.

          I rubbed my eyes and switched the lights off. I fell into a deep sleep as the darkness embraced me, coldness in it's trail.