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Tears. That's all she can see. That, and the blurry sight of her silhouette in the bathroom mirror.
She doesn't want to look down at her arm. No she can't. She can't get herself to look down to watch all her disappointment seep through her skin in the form of a beautiful flower.
But after a good moment, she does. She does what she can't bear doing, watching with her sorrowful eyes as a tiny green stem, attached to two minuscule leaves and a few unopened flowers buds, tears through her skin, bringing beads of a red substance along with it.
It stings.
It sends a stabbing pain through her whole arm, as if something cold and poisonous had been infused into her veins. The pain makes her flinch and hiss quietly, as she tries hard not to make a noise louder than that, bearing the pain by sharply biting down on her tongue.
But there's something that hurts more than the stinging of this thing coming through the skin of her forearm. Just the thought of it makes her want to fall through the ground and never return: she's shedding her blood...
Because of a boy?
A metallic taste spreads throughout the inside of her mouth and another sharp pain grasps the tip of her tongue, making her gasp and stop biting her tongue.
More blood.
She scoffs and looks up, staring into her own eyes back in the mirror with disbelief. The blood from her mouth oozes over to a corner of her lips, threatening to fall down to her chin, much like the tears holding on for dear life at her waterline.
"Who...are you?" She mutters to herself, unable to recognise the sobbing, distraught, lovesick girl presented in the mirror in front of her. The dim lighting of her bathroom only makes her situation look worse.
What has gotten into her? Even thinking about things like love was something that she never thought would leave one little trace in her life.
And now it's leaving scars instead.
"Agh...Yang Jungwon, what have you done to me?" She whispers, a faint smile embracing her lips. A smile full of pain, and indefinitely not the happiness that smiles are often supposed to convey.
Whilst taking quiet, heavy breaths to calm down, she rolls down her long sleeved jumper, gently wiping her tears with the rim of this jumper in the process. She even goes as far as smiling at the mirror in front of her as brightly as she can muster, wondering when she could finally stop.
When she could stop pretending that she is fine for the sake of not worrying others. But perhaps that will never happen. She had always been the type to hide her feelings in such a way.
