The darkness suffocates her. The way it twisted her mind was almost beautiful. It wiggled around before it burst. A cloud of black smoke engulfed her brain, attacking her brain. Slowly the black cloud turned into black ink, her brain soaking it up, loving the way it made it feel. Although she herself hated the ink her brain told her she needed it. She deserved the darkness. Slowly the ink made its way through her bloodstream, soon every fiber of her being was ink. The goo yearning her to let it free. So she did, she started cutting the writs, not understanding why the ink didn't spill from the fresh wound. Her black and blue skin stung as she made another cut next to it, a pool of red blood trickled down her arm. It was almost sinful how smooth it looked. It was rich and made a perfect splash of red on the bathroom door. A small whimper left the girl as she watched. She was memorized. The ink again told her brain she needed this. It was the only way to feel. It would fix her, eventually.

    Soon the girl was nothing but a fake doll, a smile painted on her face and a laugh box in her throat that, when appropriate, would hide her sob. No one knew about the black ink. How it comforts her. How it tells her she will get better but only if she lets the red spill. It holds her when she cries and whispers what was truth while others lied. The ink loved her. It loved how her brain did as told, it loved her red blood and how it relaxed when the blood dripped. It loved how the girl took its words to heart. It loved that her heart would break ever so slightly with each word it whispered.

Stupid
Crazy
Insane
Dumb
Fat
Ugly
Dramatic
Worthless
Bitch
Whore
Slut
Lonely
Loveless
Gross
Smelly
Emotional

    The whispers didn't stop. Soon the ink got louder screaming the words. She grew to hate the ink, she understood it just hurt her, but it was too late. The ink loved her too much to let her go. Soon another fog clouded her body, this time it was orange in color. Ink recognized the cloud and welcomed it. The orange cloud turned into water, the water mixed with the ink to make a mess. It told her she was stupid and never going to live happily. The mess washed over her body, made her heavy and hard to get up in the morning.

    The water told her new things. It spoke of her friends hate her and told her she would fail her test. It told her secrets of the ink and how the ink loved them more. It spoke sweetly as it forced her to submit to its weight. The mess begged her to cut more, telling her they would go away if she did. So she did. Each night more and more cuts appeared on her upper thighs, the ripped and reddish skin smiling up at her each time it was created. As she brandished her little silver friend in her hand the scars welcome the blood, letting her feel that small ting of pain. She hated and loved her mess. It told her the truth but it told her lies as well.

    She couldn't stop this time, the red was too pretty. Soon her skin turned to paste as she feels. The ground cool against the burning of her legs, the red spilling next to her as she watched, the mess showed its face and she wanted to scream but couldn't. Its sweet face, like that of an angel, smiled kindly but its eyes were black. She didn't want this. She didn't want to die. As her vision fades she hears a click followed by a scream.

    The mess won the fight but she won the battle. As she came to, a white light, like that of an LSD forced its way into her eyes. Making her blind momentarily. Soon she was able to stand the light. As her eyes opened she saw nothing but white and blue. The tiles of the hospital ground where white and the walls a pale blue with her bed having blue sheets. She didn't notice her mother's face until she heard her voice yell her name, "Larraine!" With a gasp, she looked at the woman. Her eyes sagged with redness, showing she had been crying before.

    She slowly approached her daughter, timid. She looked as if she could break, she had never noticed how skinny she had gotten. Was she starving herself all this time? Her daughter, once full with light was laying in front of her, in a hospital gown, underweight and cuts all over her legs.