Tattoo || m.c.

21

Mars sighed onto her bed as she thought of Michael. Her cheeks were flared up and she felt vulnerable but there was one thing different from her normal embarassment.

She was smiling, but only until she fell asleep and the voices took over her thoughts.

*Day 15*

I'm tired of life.

My mom, my therapist, my zero friends, Michael...

I don't know what to do anymore. I wish I wasn't such a coward and could end my life already. I wish I could just take the pills in my hand and shove the down my throat or take the kitchen knife and slit my throat.

I don't want to be here anymore. I just want to be normal and free.

"Don't say that"

*Pause on Day 15*

There stood Michael Clifford, in the hallway of my house, a sad expression across his face. He was so grateful that she was strong enough to not take her life but how could he not notice how broken Mars was? It hurt his heart and and he just wanted to fix her.

He sat down next to her on the couch and grabbed her hand.

"I'm glad you're alive, Mars, because then I can see your beautiful face each day. I get to see your cute little body in an oversized sweater and I get to see you," He gave a soft smile, gentling pulling her closer to him.

She was slowly breaking down from his words as she brushed her tears off on her sleeve, finally sobbing into his chest. All she wanted to be normal and yet here she was fat, and ugly and stupid.

"I just want to be normal, Michael," She whispered, hot tears rolling down her cheeks.

"You are normal, baby. You just need to see it," He whispered placing his tatted arms around her waist and softly kissing her forehead.