“Look, Dead Girl walking!”

“Doesn't she eat or sleep?”

“Would you look at those scarred wrists, she looks like a broken doll.”

“How pathetic, who would love a girl like that.”

What are these voices I hear?

Who is saying these words?

These honest, yet harsh and cruel words?

Set on replay like a record in my head.

Are they laughing at me?

Mocking me?

Maybe I'm crazy, or maybe I'm just paranoid.

Is it possible that these voices I hear are just imaginary? Created by my own insecure subconscious?

Perhaps my my mind is trying to fill an empty void.

But which one?

Voices. All I hear are voices.

Faceless and soundless.

“Calm down, they're just voices.” Seulgi muttered to herself as she made her way to the girls washroom, eyes away from the crowd of people who were staring at her with judgement.

Trying to control herself was hard.

But trying to control the monsters inside her head was even more harder.

* * *

With a small blade in her trembling hand, Seulgi on a huge breath as she drew new lines on her flawed wrist.

She knows it was wrong.

She knows that Joohyun would be mad for beating and hurting herself again. But the temptation of seeing the pretty color of crimson-red liquid dripping down her skin was too strong that she couldn't resist it.

I'm so tired of doing this, but hope seem so hard to find when all around is falling.

And there's never enough light to see my way out.

I am the ha