red.

Red. The color of many things. The color of anger. Agitated flesh. Blood.

The red coming out of her did not scare her like it did most people. "She could not keep her colors inside the lines so she drew new ones." She could not keep her colors inside the lines. She already had too many and still she drew more. The cool silver blade running across her arms. She didn't know why- but it was comforting. It shouldn't've been but it was.

It was a way for her to feel something. Something besides completely numb. It was a way to release her fear, anger, and everything else. She didn't understand why, but it was a way for her to release everything. She only wore long sleeves, hoddies, and never anything else. Once, when there were only a few, she wore a bandana over them during spirit week. People asked about it and she decided to never even dare again to wear anything that wouldn't completely cover her scars.

In the summer, she kept inside, staying pale. When school came around, everyone made fun of her for being so pale. They spoke of their trips to other countries and she talked of how she watched nearly every Netflix suggestion.

The things that once comforted her, books, music, writing, it only caused her more pain. It reminded her of who she used to be. Of the girl who was okay. "What am I supposed to say when I'm all choked up that you're okay."

She hated that girl. The one that was okay. The girl who could laugh with the ones she called her friends. The girl who could write pages at a time without stopping. She loathed her with all of herself.

One day. Too much red came out of her.