Tattoo || m.c.

29

Mars saw the pictures at midnight, when her cramps were at their deadliest point and her Netflix was glitching. She wouldn't have known it was him if it wasn't for his new pink candy-floss colored hair. To say she was hurt would be an understatement, she was devastated. It was a side-effect of blood flowing out of her twenty-four seven but it made this picture kick her in the gut, repeatedly.

She knew he was still a dick but Mars didn't know he could be this outrageous. She was pissed beyond belief and wanted to vomit from seeing his tongue down the unknown girl's throat. Who knew how many women he kissed that night? She frowned and shoved a large handful of pringles into her mouth. It was a time like these that she wished she had a best friend. They could plan revenge or just watch cheesy, sad, romantic movies all day.

Nobody would want to be with a freak like you.

Why would they want to when you look like that, you obese bitch?

She started to cry and pull her hair.

"Get out of my head," She whispered over and over again. The voices just kept coming though, they hit her like bullets in the chest. Her emotions were making them worse, listing off reasons for why he would go for a prettier, skinnier girl than Mars.

"I hate him. I hate me. I wish I could stop liking him," She cried, before sliding a pillow over her head and sleeping.

Dreaming was the only part of the day when she couldn't hear her thoughts. She was alone and it was just her dreams.