She couldn't take this anymore; there was just too much to deal with and it was going to slowly drive her insane. There had to be a way to let it all out. Her tears came when they wished, not when they were bidden. If they did arrive they could never fall fast enough or hard enough to satisfy her. She could scream herself hoarse and still feel unfufilled. She would dream of her nails becoming claws so she could rip the pain right out of her chest, only to wake, disappointed, to flimsy nails and unmarred torso.
During the sleepless nights she'd cry silently out to all the gods she knew and those unknown to end the sickness in her soul that caused her such mental agony... and never received an answer.
Counseling just pissed her off and the drugs made her worse. True, they deadened her feelings but she could never stay that way for long. She wanted to be able to feel like normal people felt. Yet whenever she stopped and cautiously opened the cellar doors, it would hit her all at once, a freight train of pain. Then it was all hell. Living as a souless shell on one side and on the flip of the coin, a bodiless soul chained in the boiling depths of hell. She hadn't decided which was worse yet.
In a blind rage, she picked up some random thing and hurled it at a wall. The sound of tinkling glass made her smirk but did nothing to soothe the burn. A picture frame lay broken on the floor. She hesitantly picked up the frame, gazing at the shredded photo within. It was from before. Before her inner demons shackled down her heart and formed a death grip on her mind. Why couldn't she go back? Why couldn't things have stayed the same? Stayed simple? Within another fit of anger she hurled the frame from her, accidentely slicing a deep cut into the palm of her hand.
She blinked at the pain. And then blinked again in disbelief at actually being able to feel her problems, worries, pain, and grief flowing out with her life-blood. It didn't take long for her troubled brain to make the connection. She carefully lifted a large shard of glass and carried it with her to the bathroom.
Every new slash brought sweet relief. Every stream of crimson tears brings another problem flowing out, down the drain and away from her. A sadistic smile adorned her face and her body shivered in ecstasy as the hot blood cascaded down. Gods, how good it felt to have herself in her own hands and to finally reign in the raging conflict inside!
The blood flow slowly ebbed and she leaned backwards against the tub with a sigh. Everything was perfect. She was finally in control and for the first time in a while she felt weak, human. Nothing would ever be the same again.