The Jewelry box

She sits alone in her room on top of the purple bedspread that used to make her so happy. It used to be so bright and cheerful, but now it's faded, worn, ripped and stained, like her life almost, what was once so happy now seems so depressing. She covers her head up like a little girl hiding from the boogie man deep in the night, what she hides from is worse than any boogie man though.

Hearing footsteps ascending the stairs she quickly switches off the light, causing instant darkness, a moment of blindness as the footsteps pass her room. She switches on the lamp cautiously holding her breath until she hears the squeak at the end of the hall, signifying that the monster within won't be coming out of his lair until dawn.

She opens the jewelry box beside her bed. The colors within are so beautiful, reds and yellows, oranges and blues, to bad there is no jewelry left in the box. Only pills, pills she was supposed to take yesterday, last week, last month, and last year. God has it been that long since the spiral into the hiatus that has become her began. She quickly learned that the happy color could be deceiving for the contents contained within caused no more happiness than before. It's all trickery, thievery in fact. They steal you of your free mind sending you into a zombie like state of decisions made not by your mind but of the drugged one, the "happy" one, the sane one

She lifts up the secret compartment within the jewelry box she's had since forever. The pills she could stand them finding, but this she could not. She looks at the shiny objects, neatly aligned from sharpest to bluntest. The bottle of peroxide carefully stashed away in her nightstand drawer, for "ear aches" she claimed, but really she just liked the burn. She chooses from the middle, a good friend of hers, used but still effective. Clean and shiny, as she had left it the last time. Her pale flesh tingles as the box-cutter tickles her arm, running up and down the length of it. Her mind begins to wander as she stares deep within the scars that adorn her arm, but in an instant her mind is snapped back into consciousness as, with a flick of her wrist she causes a shot of pain to be sent throughout her. A smile sneaks across her face, she could not help but feel relieved.

She let the blood flow freely sliding down her pale skin and staining her bedspread even more. Another mark on her arm another mark on her bed, it's amazing they did not’t catch on to her. Grinning she pours the peroxide on her freshly made slash marks and watches the bubbles form around them, stinging her with even more pleasure.

She looks at the pills carefully placing the ones in her mouth that she knows will allow her a moment of bliss, and sighs. Perhaps tomorrow she'll take what she's supposed to, but she doubts it. Perhaps tomorrow she'll need them to end her pain. But for now she has what it takes, at least she thinks. Today she doesn't need them for that. The blood is still flowing from her arm, she looks at it, quite pleased with herself, she's never gone this deep before, and believes she's taking it quite well. For an hour she sits there thinking this to herself, not even noticing or caring that her sheets have become soaked with her blood. Her once purple bedspread had turned to crimson. Her eyes begin to close and one last thought crosses her mind, 'I need to turn my light off, I can't let him know I'm awake' but she simply could not muster the strength to flip the switch. At least her stash was tucked away though; she drifts off into what she took for a peaceful sleep. Soon to be woken in a fit of rage in a lonely room full of nothing.