The knife slowly drew a straight line of blood, parallel to the dozen others on Violet's arm. She used to wince at the feeling, but she's used to it now. She didn't bother to wipe away the thick, red substance that dripped onto the wood floor beneath her, to rest with the other blood stains full of terrible memories.
Violet silently walked back into her bedroom and slipped between her silky, white bed sheets. The dim, blue glow of her phone illuminated her face as she scrolled mindlessly through her Instagram feed.
She saw right through the smiling faces of the people who stood, frozen in an image that would forever lay within the depths of the internet. She could see their scars. Although not every person has cuts that parted their skin, everyone has at least a bruise on their souls.
For instance, Julia Kent. Good grades, great hair, semi-popular, kind. But she has bags under her eyes, despite her 8 hours of sleep. And her back is so full of knots you can practically see them through her tee-shirt. Violet had once overheard her talking with her friends about her suicide attempt. Julia stopped showing up to school and rumors were that her dad pulled her out.
Everyone has their problems, their own scars. Everyone deals with them their own way. Some hide them, bandage them up do no one can see. Some parade them off like a 1st place trophy. But we all have them whether we like it or not, and they don't go away without a fight.
