I know it needs work, which is why I'll take any constructive criticism you have for me.
I promise my feelings won't be hurt, so please tell me the absolute truth. Thank you! 
Innocence.*
That's what it is, I thought hazily of my reflection in the mirror. No makeup on, hair matted, kitty pajamas ruffled. Altogether, it was a childish picture. But maybe that's why I stood there for several minutes, just addressing my appearance.
I took a cautious step forward.
Through my swollen eyes, I could just barely detect the heartbroken fourteen-year-old girl that I was. I crossed my arms, which brought on an awful tingling sensation in my arms. The startled girl in the mirror watched as a rusty-colored hand reached, grabbing the hem of my discolored sleeve, and revealed what looked like an arm straight from a horror movie. Dried, black blood stained my wrists, extending all the way up to my wrists. It cracked when I touched it, floating to the floor in a puddle of ashes. Horrified, I hurriedly wrenched the right leg of my flannel pants up. Purple bruises occupied the skin on my knees and shins in a rainbow of colors. I had to clap my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.
I'd been in a horrible rage the previous night, but had I really gone this far? Had I really permanently scarred my skin in an explosive outburst? It didn't seem like something I would do.
It was then that I noticed the sliver of crimson that crept up from the left side of my collarbone, barely peeking above the top of my shirt. With shaky hands, I slowly undid the buttons to disclose it, jaggedly cut in to my chest. Two simple words that made my skin crawl.
Good luck.
The room spun. She'd done this, I knew she had. Only she could be so immature as to go this far.*
It took a few years for my brain to grasp that I was on the ground. I hadn't even felt myself hit the ground, but I did see the puke everywhere.
Darkness consumed me then, capturing the world around me.
I promise my feelings won't be hurt, so please tell me the absolute truth. Thank you! Innocence.*
That's what it is, I thought hazily of my reflection in the mirror. No makeup on, hair matted, kitty pajamas ruffled. Altogether, it was a childish picture. But maybe that's why I stood there for several minutes, just addressing my appearance.
I took a cautious step forward.
Through my swollen eyes, I could just barely detect the heartbroken fourteen-year-old girl that I was. I crossed my arms, which brought on an awful tingling sensation in my arms. The startled girl in the mirror watched as a rusty-colored hand reached, grabbing the hem of my discolored sleeve, and revealed what looked like an arm straight from a horror movie. Dried, black blood stained my wrists, extending all the way up to my wrists. It cracked when I touched it, floating to the floor in a puddle of ashes. Horrified, I hurriedly wrenched the right leg of my flannel pants up. Purple bruises occupied the skin on my knees and shins in a rainbow of colors. I had to clap my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.
I'd been in a horrible rage the previous night, but had I really gone this far? Had I really permanently scarred my skin in an explosive outburst? It didn't seem like something I would do.
It was then that I noticed the sliver of crimson that crept up from the left side of my collarbone, barely peeking above the top of my shirt. With shaky hands, I slowly undid the buttons to disclose it, jaggedly cut in to my chest. Two simple words that made my skin crawl.
Good luck.
The room spun. She'd done this, I knew she had. Only she could be so immature as to go this far.*
It took a few years for my brain to grasp that I was on the ground. I hadn't even felt myself hit the ground, but I did see the puke everywhere.
Darkness consumed me then, capturing the world around me.